


A Tale of Two Ages

by Personaddict07



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also uploaded on FF.net, Alternate Universe (Possibly), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternating Timelines, Anachronistic, Angst, Arthurian, Awkward, Barons, Britain, Chivalry!, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Gender roles are not clear (by virtue of who Saber really is), Genderbending, Genderbending of a Genderbend (what...), Guilt, Headcanon, Historical References, I never got to tell you, I wish to tell you..., Jousting, Knights - Freeform, Lords, Love Triangle (mild), May take liberties with established canon, More tags to be added in the future, Nobility, Old mages who work mischief (Merlin), Politics, Potions, Rating May Change, Rome - Freeform, Spoilers for Arthurian legend(?), Spoilers for FSN, Spoilers for UBW, Takes basis from various Arthurian legend sources, kings - Freeform, pov switching, self hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Personaddict07/pseuds/Personaddict07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King of Knights fights once more for the Holy Grail... only in a form that she never expected. It was supposed to be over, so what is she doing, fighting for something she no longer wants? Will the past she has evaded in Avalon finally catch up with her? Will she finally receive the closure she was denied in life? <br/>Takes place in both the past and the present as the fic goes on. Slightly AU and/or OOC at certain points. Multiple Pairings. Rating may change as the fic progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. King Arthur

**Chapter One – King Arthur**

* * *

 

**_King Arthur._ **

Floating words disturb Saber’s slumber.

**_Awaken, Arturia. Our contract is not finished._ **

Vague sounds and sensations slowly come back to her. She remembers the clashing of thousands of swords, the screaming of horses and men, the flapping of vulture’s wings overhead. Her hands close instinctively.

**_You have been summoned twice. A third time thou shall fight in the service of the Holy Grail._ **

Saber frowns at the lingering intrusion. The sounds of another time and place have faded. Now she hears nothing.

 ** _What is it the people say? Third time’s the allure? Or is it the charm?_**  

Saber hears nothing but the feeling of wrongness persists. She does not hear the words but is aware of their existence. It is as if the thoughts behind the words are manifested in her, yet it doesn’t seem like the words belong to a single person. It doesn’t feel as if it belongs to a person at all.

Never one to stand by while such wrongness was present, Saber grits her teeth and sits up. She summons the invisible Excalibur and her hands close only to find thin air in place of her sacred blade.

Then she remembers that she no longer possesses the Holy Sword. She gave it to Sir Bedivere to hand it back to the Lady of the Lake. Never would she have thought to have need of it again. After all, what harm comes to those in Avalon?

Avalon.

She should be in Avalon. Or so she thinks but she has no idea what Avalon looks like. Shouldn’t the Isle of Apples be peaceful? With trees far older than most castles, small lazy streams, a slight ever present mist coming from the seas, and structures made of aged marble?

**_You are no longer in Avalon, King of Knights. You are in my Throne of Heroes._ **

The Throne of Heroes? But that is impossible! She has stopped seeking the Holy Grail and has thus, voided the contract!

 ** _Only temporarily, of course._** Saber senses a chuckle. **_I do not appreciate having my Grail destroyed twice in such a short span of time._**

_‘My’ Grail?_

**_As such, I shall disturb your peaceful slumber and make you a Servant once more. A Servant, King of Knights. _ **

What?! She cannot be summoned again. The contract is void! What is happening?

 ** _Ah, but you have lost your famous sword. Shame._** The words, dripping with sarcasm, ignore her confusion. **_What kind of host am I to send you to a war with no weapon? Alas, I cannot give you Excalibur nor Caliburn, but Rhongomyniad still exists._**

**_However… I am also aware that a condition exists for you to be able to use your lance to its full extent. You had to be at the same state you were when you received the lance from the fae, right?_ **

She was at the end of a campaign when Merlin, her court wizard, called her for a ‘walk’ which turned into a discussion about Britain being the last scar from the age of the gods. At the end of the ‘walk’, which she should have known was anything but, she received a spear that pierces the world, from the fae. It being the last thing to seal a world of magic away.

Unfortunately, when she led and launched campaigns, it was customary for the King to drink a potion that changed her into a man for a time, for it would have been difficult and awkward to have her wounds nursed by healers otherwise. She did not mind that she had to constantly drink Merlin’s potion during the course of her reign, although she hated the nausea and slight tingling feeling that came after the potion faded.

The same state. She was, for all intents and purposes, a man when she received Rhongomyniad.

**_Your lance, passed down through your lineage, still exists in the world of Man, King of Knights. And the condition can easily be arranged._ **

What?

Saber suddenly feels her gut wrench involuntarily.

“Wait. Why are you doing this?” Saber cries out. “Who are you?”

She receives no reply as she heaves and puffs out air from a stomach empty for an uncertain time period. Her arms and legs tingle, and her energy levels fluctuate madly. She feels intense discomfort, it is as if someone is playing with her internal organs. Saber falls to her knees.

* * *

 

Not long after, she feels like she really is falling.

Saber lands with a crash. She feels grass along her skin and the wind gently caresses her hair. Birds fly overhead, cawing slightly. Saber grunts and rubs her forehead with a gloved hand, and notices that her hand is slightly larger than what she’s used to. Saber frowns and a glance at the rest of her armored body confirms her suspicions.

She... He is now a man. Saber sighs in frustration. This has been a most unorthodox summoning. There has been no ritual to summon a Servant as far as she— _he_ knows. He is not lying on a magic circle, so there mustn’t have been. What in the world is happening? This shouldn’t be possible. The contract with the Grail became null and void once the Grail was destroyed willingly. Yet, he is here.

Here, apparently seems to be a park. Children are running and playing, adolescents are reading or gathering, and families are eating together. Similar to what could be found in Saber’s time, but at the same time also different.

“Hey! Are you one of those costumed chaps filming a movie around here?” A middle aged man inquires while running towards Saber. Saber watches him warily, prepared to defend himself should the man make any aggressive moves.

English. “No,” Saber replies, and the man frowns. “I mean, yes. I am one of those filming a movie.”

The older man looks at Saber oddly before shrugging. “Fine then. I got one of your props sticking outta the ground. I need you to take it away before the children swing or climb on it. Follow me.” Without waiting for the Servant’s reply, the older man turns and jogs away.

Saber follows and discovers that said prop was none other than Rhongomyniad. “Yes, thank you. I’ll take care of it,” Saber mutters to the man and promptly grabs the lance. He has a moment to rue about the convenience of the matter when words suddenly manifest.

**_You must make haste, Arthur. The 6 th Grail War has officially started with your arrival… and you are two days late._  **

_Arthur. Well, I suppose the name fits me better now than it ever has. I am no longer Saber. Excalibur and Caliburn are no longer in my possession. Clarent is in Mordred’s hands, wherever she is. And even though I have this finely made cavalry sword by my side, I cannot be called Saber anymore._ He scratches his nape and sighs. _With Rhongomyniad, I am now Servant Lancer._

Without further explanation, as before, the words fade. Two days have passed since the arrival of the other six servants. He has to find his Master immediately. Arthur concentrates and attempts to get a feeling for his Master… who doesn’t seem to be very far away.

“If that is all, young man, I’ll be going.” The older man stares at Arthur curiously before leaving. Arthur sighs and rubs his temple in frustration once the man has gone. “Rhongomyniad,” He mutters, inspecting the lance.

Differing greatly from the King’s other weapons, Caliburn, Excalibur, and Carnwennan, the 10 foot lance is barely decorated aside from Fairy Letters engraved on its vamplate, and as such, looks rather plain. The letters serve as proof that it is a Divine Construct, not forged by the hands of man. The vamplate and the lance’s shining appearance store the 13 seals that hold in the light from the Ends of the Earth. Once released, the lance’s Type and Rank would change. One would not expect the World’s anchor to look so plain and unassuming, but the World cares little for aesthetics.

Walking around in armor is too conspicuous and wearing modern clothes is out of the question. With a thought (and a cursory look to make sure that no one is around), Arthur fades into spirit form.

He races through roads and across rooftops, taking the shortest route possible to reach his Master. He also sees that small cars dominate the roads and buildings with Gothic designs could be seen in the distance, meaning that he is most likely somewhere in Europe. He smiles, that must explain the increase in power he has felt since ‘falling’ to earth. That, or his Master is extraordinarily powerful.

He lands on the rooftop of a small house and inspects the larger house directly across it. The residence itself isn’t particularly large when compared to others in the sparsely populated area, but its land area is huge and decorated with a courtyard by the front and a backyard. His master is inside, he is sure of it. Taking two steps back, Saber breaks into a run and leaps off his perch. His jump takes him over the larger house’s gate and lands a few feet in front of a fountain.

The temperature suddenly feels a lot colder.

With a deft twist, Arthur reverts to his normal form. In the same moment that his jousting helm materializes, an arrow whizzes past his head. He dodges three more arrows fired in succession at him, and draws a cavalry sword sheathed at his hip. A lithe Servant clad in a violet hood and brown leather armor slides down the rooftop, an arrow notched in her bow. Probably Archer.

The King of Knights doesn’t wait for the arrow to be fired. He climbs on to the fountain and jumps for Archer, sword reflecting the sunlight. Archer draws a dagger from her lower back and parries Arthur’s strike. She immediately jumps away and fires a glowing arrow that Arthur slashes to the side. The arrow explodes upon impact with the rooftop and destroys a portion of it. Arthur manages to leap away from the fallen rooftop, but receives an arrow in the gap in his plate armor between the left shoulder and breast plates. He grunts and breaks away the arrow’s body but sees and feels the arrowhead burning through his flesh and chainmail. Arthur gets the odd feeling that this has happened before.

He did not expect there to be an enemy Servant where his Master was. Masters do not generally take other Masters captive, preferring to kill them whenever possible for it is much easier to kill a magus than a Servant. But his Master was still alive, he could feel his presence somewhere within the house.

“Archer!” A female voice shouts from the ground, but Arthur doesn’t dare take his eyes off the enemy servant. Archer is momentarily distracted, and he takes the chance to jump into the hole in the rooftop to find his Master. Turning his back on a long range Servant like Archer is pure folly, but he has no choice. He was supposed to be here to protect his Master but he wasn’t, so instead, he has to find him or her.

Arthur runs through the hallway, slashing through concrete walls like leather as arrows land where he was a moment ago. This Servant is frustratingly tenacious. Suddenly, the arrows stop flying after the King of Knights, and Archer’s footsteps clomp as she runs on the rooftop above.

Arthur senses that she is heading for his Master. He increases his speed and bashes through another concrete wall. There are two people in the backyard, a young man and woman both looking at him in fear. He must have bashed through an entire length of the house. 

There! His Master! He grabs the young man by the shoulders and turns him around so that Arthur’s body protects that of the young man’s. The woman immediately launches a spell that howls for their blood. The wind spell is powerful by magus standards, but Arthur is able to withstand the howling winds easily and shields his Master with his body and outstretched right arm. The man is yelling something in his ear that Arthur does not understand.

“Archer!” The woman yells, apparently being the same woman who called for Archer a while ago. Three glowing arrows answer her yell, and Arthur pushes his Master away. His sword flashes as he slashes an arrow out of the air, he twists so that another arrow passes by harmlessly and explodes behind him, making sure that none of the arrows land near his Master.

The third arrow, however, hits him clear in his right shoulder and explodes upon impact, knocking Arthur back a couple of feet. He grits his teeth and rubs his shoulder in pain. Gripping his sword tighter, he runs for Archer’s Master. Attacking an unarmed and helpless individual is against the very tenets of chivalry, but as Archer’s Master has demonstrated, she is anything but.

… And even if she wasn’t, honor has no place in a war.

“Rin!” his Master yells and runs towards the woman. Rin? Arthur stops running, halting his Master with an outstretched hand. He casts a look at Archer, who has now given up her height advantage, and is standing beside her Master, another arrow notched and aimed at Arthur and his Master.

_Rin? What is going on? Could it be-_

Arthur wonders as his Master tries in vain to wrench Arthur’s arm away. He takes the momentary lull in combat to properly examine the enemy Master. Long black hair flowing down her shoulders, blue eyes looking at them contemplatively, and a slender figure dressed in a red long sleeve shirt and black pants. The Master standing before them really is Rin Tohsaka. He grips his sword tighter and frowns.

_So Rin has been called again as an Archer’s Master. However, for some reason, she has my Master captive. Facing a former ally will be difficult, but I must ignore that. I will cut her down if I have to._

Rin then walks forward slowly and tells Archer to stay put. Arthur narrows his eyes and waits.

“Wait! Maybe this isn’t necessary,” She says with her right arm raised as if calming a rabid animal. “Servant.” She points at Arthur. “I ask of you, is Emiya Shirou your Master?”

_Shirou?_

The King looks at the young man still tugging at his arm. A redhead wearing a black jacket, jeans, and a scarf wrapped around his neck. His left hand bears a command seal. Shirou Emiya. His former Master as Servant Saber, and it seems his Master as Servant Lancer as well.

_What is the meaning of this? Are Rin and Shirou enemies now, or is there a mistake?_

Arthur banishes the thought from his mind and turns back to Rin. “He is.”

“What?” Shirou stops tugging at Arthur’s arm and gapes for a moment.

Rin’s eyes widen in surprise but she has better control over her emotions and schools her face back into wary interest. “I see. Well then, it seems that this entire exercise has been nothing but a waste of time.” Arthur opens his mouth to protest. “Meaning no disrespect to you, of course.” Rin continues before Arthur has a chance to speak. “My name is Rin Tohsaka. Shirou and I are allies, Servant Saber. There is no need to fight.”

“Master.” Archer speaks while still aiming the bow at Arthur. “You should not speak so quickly. We have no proof that this Servant really is Master Emiya’s. You also shouldn’t assume that this Servant is Saber only because he looks like a knight and uses a sword.”

Arthur agrees with Archer’s assessment and stifles an amused scoff. Unlike Archer, he lowers his sword but doesn’t sheath it.

“No. I can tell.” Shirou says while examining his left hand, the hand with the Command Seal. “I wasn’t able to focus before, but yes. He is my Servant.” He lowers his hand and looks at Arthur. “Sorry about that by the way. I could have stopped this before it started.”

“No need to apologize, Master.” Arthur nods. “All of us made assumptions. I had thought you were held captive by Ms. Rin since I was attacked by her Servant, who in turn, might have made the assumption that I was an enemy.”

“You did come out of nowhere.” Archer shrugs, her shoulders rising in a dainty motion. “But who are you, Servant? Are you really Saber?”

Arthur smiles ruefully, although it’s not as if anyone can see through his jousting helm. “No. I am Servant Lancer.” He says, bowing slightly with his hand over his midsection.

“Wait. It would be best to continue this discussion inside.” Rin interrupts. The others nod in agreement and they all walk through a wall that Arthur demolished. “This is going to take a while to fix.” Rin frowns as she inspects the hole made by Arthur’s sword impact. “Shirou!” She suddenly turns to the startled Shirou. “Help me fix this mess. Your Servant just bashed through several walls to save you, so you better help me fix this.”

Shirou scratches his head and walks to the other end of the residence, stepping over the broken bricks. Rin waves Archer and Lancer to an intact part of the house, telling them not to kill each other after the weapons were dispelled. The King of Knights watches with interest while she casts restoration spells.

_Watching stone walls piece themselves back together is always an odd sight. If only we were able to do this back then, or if more Magi who could do this existed, we would never have lost a siege. On the other hand, taking castles by force would have taken much more time, lives, food, and men…_

Lancer turns back to Archer and finds the latter observing him warily. The feeling of deja vu returns. Archer has a hood that covers her forehead and casts shadows over her eyes. She is dressed in light leather armor, with pauldrons, greaves and armbands made of steel and traced with intricate designs. There isn’t much that separates her from other bowmen from Lancer’s memory except for a purple half cape that connects with her hood. She crosses her arms to create a makeshift barrier between them.

“Have we met before, Archer?” Arthur asks, unable to shake the feeling that he has seen her before.

Archer observes her fellow Servant, her eyes inspecting his armor and stance. “I wouldn’t know, Lancer.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know your identity. So I can’t really answer that.”

Arthur nods, feeling slightly foolish for asking such a question.

Shirou smiles as he approaches the others. “I’ve inspected the walls on the outer part of the house, Rin. But you can clearly see that the ones on the inside,” He points to the two walls closest to their position. “Will take more time and effort.”

Rin nods. “I see. I’ve fixed the walls on the backyard and the room leading to it. I’ve also finished putting up the Boundary Field that we’ve been working on. We won’t be caught off guard by unknown arrivals in the future, at least.” She says, while glancing at Arthur.

The Servant bows his head very slightly. “I apologize for ruining your walls.”

Rin closes her eyes and concentrates. She points her hand at a 45 degree angle towards the roof. _“_ _Wiederherstellung und Stärkung mein Haus.”_ The broken bricks and rubble on the floor shudder and start glowing. They fly towards the wall it was once part of and restore it to its previous state. The entire house shudders once when the spell finishes.

“Impressive,” Arthur comments.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to try that,” Rin huffs, twirling her hair between her fingers. She turns to the two Servants. “So, in order to work as a team effectively, we need to know who our teammates are.”

“You are asking us to share our identities, I take it?” Arthur cocks his head to one side. “That would be unwise.”

“We understand that you may have reservations. But, as her apprentice, Rin and I will fight together. We trust each other.” Shirou says reaching for Rin’s hand and holding it. Rin is slightly startled by this act but she smiles back at Shirou.

Arthur smiles in amusement and is pleased for his present and former Masters. A sentiment that is not shared by Archer, who coughs. “That is… admirable,” She says. “But what are we to do if one of you dies?”

The Masters drop each other’s hands and frown. “Should one of you perish, one of us Servants will be forced to find a different Master.” Archer continues. “With the alliance dissolved, any further fighting would be detrimental to those of us still alive since we know each other’s identities.”

“I agree.” Arthur nods.

Rin crosses her arms. “I would normally agree. But this war is not normal. We are in Europe, for one thing. I have also been hearing about other strange occurrences on the news. While that kind of thing is normal for a Holy Grail War, it shouldn’t be happening this quickly.”

_This war is definitely not normal. My own presence here is an anomaly._

“All the more reason for us to be cautious, Master.” Archer turns slightly to her fellow Servant. “I would suggest withholding our identities until we are certain of our loyalties.”

“Are you doubting my loyalty?” Arthur bristles.

Archer purses her lips. “Anything is possible. Not all knights are chivalrous.”

Arthur frowns. _It seems like she is speaking from experience. Who is this Archer and what does she have against knights?_

“Rin. Maybe it would be best if the Servants revealed their identities to their respective Masters. That way, if one of us dies,” Shirou falters slightly. “And their Servant is forced to find another Master, they still wouldn’t know who the other Servant is.”

Rin paces with her hand on her chin. “Fine. I suppose it’s the best we can do for now.”

____________________________________________________________________________________

End of Chapter 1

Wiseup!

Class: **Lancer**

Master: Emiya Shirou

True Name: Arthur Pendragon

Sex: Male

Height/Weight: 183 cm (6’) / 70 kg

Alignment: Lawful Good

Strength: **A+** (B)                      

Endurance: **B+** (C)

Agility: **A** (C)

Magical Energy: **A+** (B)

Luck: **B**

Noble Phantasm: **??**

Class Abilities

  
**Magic Resistance: B** – Cancel spells with a chant below three verses. Even if targeted by _High-Thaumaturgy_ and _Great Rituals_ , it is difficult for Lancer to be affected.

 **Riding: B** – Ability to ride things. He can ride most vehicles with above average skill, but he cannot ride those of demonic and holy beast rank.

Skills

  
**Mana Burst: A** \- This transfers magical energy into one’s weapon and body, and by releasing the magical energy instantaneously, it increases one’s ability.

 **Charisma: B** \- Natural ability to command an army. Charisma is a rare talent, and B-rank is enough to lead a country.

 **Instinct: A** \- A refined sixth sense that is now closer to true precognition. Has the bonus effect of reducing penalties caused by obstructed vision and hearing by half.

 **Cultural Sphere - The Land: The British Isles (or the United Kingdom and Ireland)** \- Being summoned in his homeland has increased Lancer’s stats by approximately one step and a modifier (+/-). Venturing to France or North America will increase his stats by one modifier only due to his influence upon the lands’ culture.

 **Author’s Note:** The Fifth Grail War took place in 2004, according to the wiki. However, the Grail was also dismantled in the 2010s (I’m assuming that means anywhere from 2010-2019) by Rin and Waver Velvet. I shall place this fic’s timeline, and the Sixth Grail War for that matter, in 2014. My reasoning for this is pretty much the same reason as the 5th War’s. Due to the premature conclusion of the War before it, (Excaliblast, anyone?) and the Grail’s failure to grant a wish, the energy accumulated through the elimination of Servants results in the premature occurrence of the succeeding War. So, at this point, they’ve just started dismantling it.

(So… I guess that means we have 12 (5 from Zero, and 7 from FSN, saber not included) Servants worth of Grail mojo then?)

As for why it’s set in Europe…

 **P.S:** For those of you who don’t know what a **vamplate** is, it’s that part of the lance. That round thing that protects the hand. Wiktionary says “A round of iron on the shaft of a tilting [spear](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/spear), to stabilize and protect the hand.”

Also, if you were wondering as to what a male Saber(F/SN) would look like, feel free to search for ‘Prototype Saber’.  

 

 **Credits to betas:** moxymike, Cori Shadowfang, LoneTraveller, MarksmanKNG, and MimiBlue

 

 

 

 


	2. Summoning

**A Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Two** **– Summoning**

* * *

 

_Two days ago…_

It is quiet. Few people wander the streets at this ungodly hour. The streets are quiet save for the occasional cab driving quickly past. 

Rin shivers, her breath turning visible. She turns an amethyst gem over in her hands. It measures five inches and possesses a jagged edge that makes one wonder whether it is a fragment, a part of something else. It is a catalyst sent to her by another branch of her family. However, the Servant connected with the catalyst is unknown. She has summoned a Servant without the use of a catalyst before, so she is unsure whether using this catalyst is worth the risk.

“I don’t see anyone, Tohsaka.” Shirou says, with his back turned to her. They are in a secluded area by London’s old industrial district, where a ley line runs through. Old power stations and factories line the banks of the River Thames. “Still, I don’t understand why we have to do the summoning outside. Can’t we do it inside one of these old buildings?”

“We could. However, some of these buildings are centuries old. If we summon a Servant inside, the building might collapse from the amount of mana released.” Rin kneels down and starts drawing a magic circle, six feet in diameter. Summoning a Servant in such a place wouldn’t necessarily make it stronger, but it would increase its compatibility with its Master.

“I just can’t believe that we’re doing this again.” Shirou says after a moment of silence. “Summoning Servants, fighting other Masters…”

“It’s one of the reasons why Masters kill other Masters. Aside from being far easier to kill than a Servant, Masters who survive a Holy Grail War can be called again: not only for the current war, but also for future ones.”

“That is true. But isn’t the Grail supposed to choose Masters who want it?” 

Rin sighs. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself, but I wouldn’t put it past the Grail to be doing this out of spite. If it can even do things like that...”

Lord El-Melloi II, her lecturer and a previous Master from the fourth Grail War, went to Fuyuki with Rin with the aim of dismantling the Grail. The two of them brought it to London with the hopes of convincing the Association that the Grail is far too dangerous to reestablish.

However, the Grail went haywire and Command Spells started appearing in its chosen Masters’ bodies. Two of those chosen Masters were Rin Tohsaka and Shirou Emiya.

Whether they liked it or not, they were part of the Sixth Grail War.

“It is done.” Rin stands and wipes the mercury off her fingers.

“Good luck, Tohsaka.” Shirou turns back to her with a smile. They had agreed to summon Rin’s Servant first and Shirou’s tomorrow. The other Masters might have summoned theirs already, but most would not attack until the seventh Servant has been summoned.

Rin smiles back and nods. She places the catalyst by the magic circle and closes her eyes.

_The time is perfect. The wavelength, ideal._

**_“Let silver and steel be the essence._ **

**_Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. The ancestor is my great master, Schweinorg._ **

**_The alighted wind becomes a wall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching into the Kingdom circulate.”_ **

The magic circle starts glowing a vivid red. Rin starts feeling the discomfort that comes with summoning a Servant.

**“ _Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill._**

**_Repeat five times, destroy each vessel as it is filled._ **

She is being filled from her fingertips. The mana she is taking in is so concentrated that the original senses of her body are being repainted. Her body temperature rises. Her vision starts to become white. The Tohsaka crest starts on its own to help her. It feels much worse.

**_“I announce. Your self is under me, my fate is your sword._ **

**_In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer._ **

**_Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead. I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead._ **

**_You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence. O keeper of the balance---!”_ **

A crack like thunder and lightning roars. A ferocious gale ruffles their hair and clothes. Shirou falls onto his back with a yell. Rin blinks her eyes vigorously to restore her vision, eager to meet her Servant.

A slender woman stands before them as the mist clears. She is dressed in light leather armor, steel pauldrons, greaves and armbands shining coldly into the night. A purple half cape sways slightly with the wind. The Servant inspects the two mages with her clear blue eyes. Long, luscious dark brown hair falls from her shoulders. A few strands fall and frame her face, accentuating her cheekbones and delicate jawline. Rin herself blinks at her Servant’s beauty. She can only imagine Shirou’s reaction.

Rin takes a moment to compose herself and quickly gets to her feet. “I am your Master, Rin Tohsaka.” She says, looking into the eyes of her regal Servant.

The Servant focuses on Rin and smiles slightly. “I am Servant Archer, Master Rin.” She nods. “I look forward to fighting by your side.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The two mages take a cab back to their apartment, Archer accompanying them in spirit form. Rin leans on Shirou’s shoulder. “Another Archer.” She chuckles softly, tired from the summoning. “I seem to have a knack for summoning them...”

“She seems like a good sort. Unlike the other one.” Shirou remarks with a smile and leans back.

Rin scoffs and inspects the amethyst in her hands again. “I wonder who she is though.”

They get off the cab once it reaches its destination. Rin feels Archer assessing the building and its surroundings.

_“Is this going to be our base of operations, Master?”_

“For now. But tomorrow we’re going to move to Dollis Hill.” Rin answers, turning to Archer, who is only visible to her. “It’s a quiet, safe suburb that has relatively no nightlife. Which makes it perfect for our purposes.”

Shirou opens the door and climbs up the stairs to their apartment room. Rin follows.

_“Yes, Master. I saw. There is a well placed Boundary Field on this building. A spell that hampers spirits also exists, so an enemy Servant will have a hard time launching an assault here. However, it is not enough of a hindrance to prevent me from defending you.”_

Rin nods. She is impressed that her Servant was able to see the Boundary Field almost immediately. The better a Boundary Field is, the harder it is to detect by mages. Normal people wouldn’t even be able to sense anything but the worst Boundary Field, so they are out of the question. The one casted around the apartment building was casted by one of the Association’s lecturers, so naturally, it was very well done. Rin herself was unable to see it until Luvia pointed it out. As for the spell that hampers spirits, it was created due to a prank involving familiars created by some of the younger magi. Said prank  nearly gave a poor old lady across the street a heart attack. Fortunately for the magi and the Association, the old lady was branded senile by her doctors, thus avoiding a lot of bloodshed. Somewhat unfortunate for the old lady, but at least she is still alive.

_“I’m going to have to ask you to stay in spirit form until we reach Dollis Hill, Archer. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to stretch your legs.”_

She senses a slight smile from her Servant. _“Understood, Master.”_

Rin is once again reminded of how different this Archer is from the last war’s.

The next day, they take a cab to Dollis Hill and move into their new home. It is a relatively large detached house with walls made of bricks and tiles. A courtyard and a paved backyard decorates the front and back of the house respectively.

The house is fully furnished, so Rin and Shirou brought only their necessities, clothes, various travel gear, and books. They take their luggage to the rooms upstairs. Shirou stubbornly refuses to let Archer bring the heavier luggage despite the fact that the Servant can carry objects many times heavier.

The cab driver looks at him with pity before driving off. Archer stops offering to help after two attempts, muttering something about how male pride is still prevalent in this day and age. Rin chuckles and shakes her head, knowing that some parts of Shirou will never change. She likes that about him. 

The house has three bedrooms on the second floor, each with its own bathroom. Two of the bedrooms each contain two full sized beds while the other bedroom, the master bedroom, contains a King sized one. The way Rin sees it, she and Shirou can share the master bedroom, although she gets tingles in her stomach when she thinks of it. She just isn’t sure that doing so would be the safest course of action.

“How do we split the bedrooms?” Shirou asks, placing the luggage by the stairs.

Archer materializes and looks at Rin, as if saying that it’s up to her. Rin scratches the back of her neck. “Perhaps it might be best if we use the two bedrooms on the right wing. You know, the ones with two beds.”

Shirou nods. “Alright then. The two of you can share a bedroom. I’ll take the other one.” He turns away from Rin and Archer and takes his luggage.

Rin blinks at his back. “What? Why?” She blurts out.

“Hm?” Shirou looks at her over his shoulder. “Archer’s your Servant, Tohsaka. Besides, girls should sleep together.”

Rin glares at him. “Well, what if your Servant’s female?”

Shirou blinks for a moment, perhaps remembering Saber. Thinking that Shirou is remembering Saber makes her think about Saber too.

“I... don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll sleep on the floor.” He smiles and shrugs.

Rin rubs the side of her head. _The room has two beds, Emiya-kun. Two beds._ She notices Archer observing their exchange with an uncertain look on her face. It is something between sympathy and amusement. She shakes her head and leads her Servant to their room.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, Rin begins her preparations for casting a Boundary Field over their new home while Shirou draws a magic circle on the paved backyard. Archer is on the rooftop, alertly surveying their surroundings. While they were in their room, Rin had informed Archer of their circumstances. Since Shirou is another Master, he will summon another Servant, which Archer will work with.

 _“I hope you realize, Master, that this is a war. Only one team can get the Grail and let their wishes be granted,”_ Archer says telepathically. 

_“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we must summon Shirou’s Servant._ ” Rin is kneeling down, drawing a sigil for the Boundary Field. _“I hope he summons Saber or Rider, a Servant that can distract the enemy while you provide support.”_

 _“If you need a distraction, Berserker would be the best Servant,”_ Archer says sardonically, she knows that Shirou cannot give the kind of mana a Berserker would require. It would be as likely to work with them as against them.

Rin notes that Archer wouldn’t be in a position to care if a Berserker would turn against them. She would most likely be too far away to be in any danger, and she can pepper the mindless Servant with arrows. If Berserker kills its own Master, then that would be less work for her.

Rin shakes her head. It seems that most Servants possess a ruthless pragmatic streak in varying levels. Even Saber, as honorable as she was, could still be pragmatic at times.

She continues applying the Boundary Field sigils. There is much to be done. Rin has to make sure that the Boundary Field is as inconspicuous as possible before she can activate it. After a while, Shirou calls her over.

“Is this good enough?” He asks, pointing to the magic circle that he has finished.

Rin inspects the circle, seeing if things are placed where they should be. She nods. “It will do.” She mentally orders Archer to retrieve the live chickens Shirou had bought from the Market. Rin herself usually uses her jewels in place of blood, but she has none to spare. She will need all she has to make it to the end of this War.

Archer lands by the magic circle and hands Shirou the chickens. No words are spoken. Shirou looks at Rin. Rin nods in support.

Rin and Archer stand back, leaving Shirou alone in the circle.

_“I wonder which Servant I’ll get,” Shirou had wondered when they formulated their plan. “I hope I don’t end up comparing them to Saber.”_

_Rin had laughed. “You won’t be able to avoid that, Emiya-kun. You’ll get thoughts like ‘what would have happened if Saber were here instead?’ whether you want to or not.” She sighed. “We just have to work with our new Servants as best as we can.”_

The magic circle glows as Shirou speaks the words of summoning. The air becomes thick and humid with mana. Leaves fly away from the circle, swept away by the wind billowing through the backyard. As with Rin’s summoning, a crack like thunder and lightning roars. They are momentarily blinded by the fierce light coming from the circle.

The light eventually fades to reveal… nothing.

“Wha-?” Shirou turns around and surveys the area. His Servant cannot be found.

_Could he have summoned Assassin? Although that would make no sense._

Rin turns to Archer. “Can you sense anything, Archer?” Perhaps a Servant especially skilled in searching for the enemy might be able to find even one such as Assassin.

Archer closes her eyes. A silent moment passes. Archer shakes her head. “Nothing in the immediate vicinity, Master.” She jumps to the rooftop and repeats the process. “I can sense faint energy signatures in the distance. However, I do not think any of them is Master Shirou’s Servant.”

Shirou and Rin look at each other.

_What could this mean?_

 

 **Author’s Note:** This chapter was supposed to be much much longer than this (around 5k+ words) but I decided instead to split it into two and three instead for better pacing. Here in this chapter, we have a little worldbuilding and some explanations regarding what happened in chapter one. It is a lot blander than chapter one, but this is also a consequence of the chapter splitting. It was supposed to end with a bang! (You’ll get to see that bang in chapter three instead…)

**Q &A:**

**CoriShadowfang:** Is Rin purposely not explaining what the Grail actually is when she says that they’ll _‘cross the bridge when they get to it’_? It seems strange for her to go along with what Archer's saying, otherwise, as at this point she would already know the Grail is corrupt.

>Rin is both deliberately not explaining what the Grail is and really saying that they'll deal with it when they get there. Rin will not tell her newly acquired Servant that the Grail is corrupt. Not unless she wants to be killed or made fun of. And also because she wants to deal with it only when they get to that point.

 

 **Credits to betas:** Cori Shadowfang, LoneTraveller, MarksmanKNG, caliburn0, and SearingMeteorite

 

 


	3. Revelation

**Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Three – Revelation**

* * *

 

Archer is sitting on a chair watching her Master pace in their room. None of them can tell why Shirou’s Servant wasn’t summoned last night. Archer had searched everything within a one-mile radius and she didn’t sense any Servants. She has, however, been able to sense faint energy signatures that _could_ belong to a Servant, but the distance is too great for those Servants to be Shirou’s.

Rin shakes her head. “This makes no sense. Where is Emiya-kun’s Servant?” She mutters as she walks back and forth. Archer has given up on following her Master with her eyes for the past hour. Shirou is in his room, poring over textbooks in order to find a solution. The three of them have slept poorly, but Archer is holding up better than the magi are.

“I give up.” Rin groans and sits on her bed, putting her face in her hands.

“It would be better to make a strategy given what we have now instead of finding a cause for something as unprecedented as this.” Archer says calmly.

Rin raises her head and blinks blearily. “Alright, I’ll bite. What can you do, Archer? How can you sense someone from so far away?”

“I can sense someone’s unique Energy Signature and commit it to memory. However, until I have seen the person with my eyes, I cannot specifically tell as to who it belongs to. I can only estimate what they are.”

“So you can tell that the Signatures you sense are those from other Servants?” Rin leans forward, now interested. “What about other magi?”

Archer nods. “I can also sense those of magi, but as you well know, any well-trained magi can conceal their energy.” She taps her fingers on the seat of the chair. “The closer my proximity to the target, the more accurate my analysis would be.”

Rin rubs her chin, deep in thought. “That is an odd way for the Archer ability to manifest. Other Archers can see from very far away and have exceptional aim.”

Archer frowns. “Every Archer has exceptional aim, Master. How else are we to ensure that our projectiles hit? As for long range vision, my skill can serve the same purpose. I can tell where the enemy is no matter where they go. Aside from possibly Assassin, none can hide from my arrows.” She knows that her Master is a survivor of the previous War and summoned an Archer in that as well, but she does not appreciate being compared. As a result, she may have slightly exaggerated her abilities, but she is confident that, with the right strategy, she can strike down any opponent.  

“Er, yes. Of course.” Rin quickly placates. “I was only… contemplating since I do not know of any Heroic Spirit that had such abilities in life. Come to think of it, which Heroic Spirit are you, Archer? ”

Archer raises her eyebrows. “You mean you don’t know?” She frowns and ponders. “Did you not use a catalyst to summon me?”

“I did. But…” Rin stands and walks over to a cabinet. She kneels and rummages through it. “I admit that I don’t know which Heroic Spirit this corresponds to.” She takes out a shard of gleaming violet and hands it to Archer.

The Servant’s eyes widen as she holds the amethyst. Her catalyst.

_She holds a much larger piece of the gemstone in her hands. She is smiling at one of the --if not the most, important person in her life, overflowing with happiness and contentment. “It is amusing that you would choose this particular gemstone, my love. In fact,-“_

Archer shakes her head, banishing the unwelcome memories away.

“Archer?” Rin looks at her with some concern.

The Servant licks her lips and relaxes her grip on the catalyst. She did not realize she was gripping it so tightly. She smiles reassuringly at her Master, who looks somewhat surprised at her sudden lack of composure.

“I apologize, Master. I was not-“

Archer stops speaking as she senses the presence of a Servant. She stands and summons her bow. “Master, please take Shirou and prepare yourselves. I can sense a Servant outside.”

Rin nods and runs off to find the other Master.

Archer summons her armor, clambers out of the window, and climbs to the rooftop. Once there, she does not see anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes narrow. She has sensed—and still does—the presence of a Servant. She is sure of it.

She soon pinpoints the location of a Servant still in spirit form by the fountain. She smiles, like a hunter spotting an innocent doe, and draws her hood to shield her eyes from the sun. She summons her bow and shoots an arrow. Her reward is the materialization of a Servant. The Servant, clad in gleaming plate armor, dodges the arrow, which prompts Archer to fire three more in rapid succession.

The Servant immediately draws a sword and climbs onto the fountain. The enemy uses it to leap straight for her. Archer dodges, draws a dagger sheathed at her lower back and bats the sword away with a resounding clang. She jumpsback, notching another arrow but infusing some of her prana into it this time. She fires but the enemy Servant slashes it aside; the arrow explodes and destroys a portion of the rooftop when it lands.

Archer fires an arrow at the enemy while he skirts away from the fallen rooftop. The Servant grunts and breaks away the body of the arrow protruding from his shoulder. He slowly backs away. Archer notches two more arrows and infuses them with energy, making them smoke purple. The enemy tenses and readies his sword.

“Archer!” Rin’s voice calls out from the ground. Archer glances at her Master, who, to her relief, is unharmed. The knight immediately turns and jumps into the hole made by her arrow while Archer is distracted. Archer scowls and waves at her Master to stay put. She sends glowing arrows flying at the knight as he runs away, slashing through the walls.

Archer grimaces, her defense of their new home is not going well. She wonders what this knight in shining armor is after for him to abandon their fight.

Wait, where is Shirou?

 She glances back at Rin, who is racing back into the house. Her eyes widen as she confirms that her Master is alone.

Archer starts running on the rooftop and concentrates. She senses Shirou in the courtyard… with the knight heading straight for him! She increases her speed, hoping to reach Shirou before the enemy. She does not know what the Servant wants with her Master’s lover, but she is not going to let him harm Shirou.

She arrives to find that the knight is holding a squirming Shirou behind his back as hostage. Rin stands resolutely before them, her gem bag in one hand. The remnants of a powerful spell in the air. Archer kneels at a perch behind her Master and fires three glowing arrows at the knight.

The knight shoves Shirou into the dirt, deflects one arrow and avoids the other. Archer notches more arrows as the third hits the enemy, knocking him off his feet. The knight grunts as he rises, snarls and suddenly runs toward Rin, his sword flashing.

“Rin!” Shirou yells and runs towards her. Archer grits her teeth and fires ordinary arrows at the knight, hoping to stop his charge. They never reach him however, since he suddenly stops. Shirou barrels into his outstretched arm.

_What-? Why did he stop?_

Archer jumps down beside her Master and aims an arrow infused with her energy at the knight. He grips his sword tightly and seems to be glaring at them. He places himself in front of Shirou and seems to be protecting him.

Rin seems to have the same thought as she tells Archer to stay. She takes a couple of steps towards the knight.

“What are you going to do?” Archer asks, not taking her eyes off the knight.

“I-I think we’ve made a mistake. Just wait here, Archer. Although back me up if this goes wrong.”

“Of course, Master.”

Rin slowly walks forward. The knight remains as still as a statue. “Wait! Maybe this isn’t necessary,” Rin says with her right arm raised as if calming a rabid animal. “Servant.” She points at the knight. “I ask of you, is Emiya Shirou your Master?”

Archer narrows her eyes. Could it be that-?

The knight looks over the squirming man. “He is,” he says.

 Shirou stops struggling and gapes at his Servant. “What?” He intelligently asks.

“I see.” Rin exhales in relief. “Well then, it seems that this entire exercise has been nothing but a waste of time. Meaning no disrespect to you, of course.” She nods at the knight. “My name is Rin Tohsaka. Shirou and I are allies, Servant Saber. There is no need to fight.”

Archer sighs and shakes her head. “Master. You should not speak so quickly. We have no proof that this Servant really is Master Emiya’s. You also shouldn’t assume that this Servant is Saber only because he looks like a knight and uses a sword.” Her arrow remains aimed at the knight. She cannot afford to take chances. Knights are after all, by their very nature, creatures of war. The code of chivalry was very prevalent during social events and at times of peace, but not many knights kept their honor in times of battle. Which the Holy Grail War certainly qualifies as. 

Archer keeps this in mind even as the knight lowers his sword. If the enemy truly is Saber, she cannot afford to let her guard down.

“No. I can tell.” Shirou says while examining his left hand, the hand with the Command Seal. “I wasn’t able to focus before, but yes. He is my Servant.”

Archer lowers her bow and dematerializes the notched arrow upon Shirou’s confirmation.

“Sorry about that by the way. I could have stopped this before it started,” Shirou says.

“No need to apologize, Master.” The knight shakes his head. “All of us made assumptions. I had thought you were held captive by Ms. Rin since I was attacked by her Servant, who in turn, might have made the assumption that I was an enemy.”

_Well…_

“You did come out of nowhere.” Archer shrugs in her defense. “But who are you, Servant? Are you really Saber?”

“No. I am Servant Lancer,” He says, bowing slightly with his hand over his midsection. It is an archaic motion.

“Wait. It would be best to continue this discussion inside.” Archer’s Master interrupts. The others nod in agreement and they all walk through a hole in a wall, a hole that must have been caused by the knight’s hurried rampage.

“This is going to take a while to fix.” Rin frowns as she inspects the hole. “Shirou!” She suddenly turns to the startled Shirou. “Your Servant just bashed through several walls to save you, so you better help me fix this.”

The Masters walk away, leaving the two Servants alone in a room that is relatively intact. The knight observes Rin casting restoration spells. Archer is unsure of the thoughts going through the Servant’s mind. Does he feel remorse for the destruction he caused to get to his Master?

The knight turns back to her, his face hidden by a jousting helm. Archer feels his gaze upon her, scrutinizing and analyzing. She crosses her arms and feels some solace in the fact that the knight cannot see her face, which is hidden by the shadow of her hood.

He is clad in gleaming plate, with dark leather straps crisscrossed over the breastplate. Blue accents run over his shoulders and arms, cloth of the same midnight shade covers the back of his legs starting from the hips. His right arm forearm is not covered in armor, but is covered instead by the blue cloth. A noble looking collar of blue and gold covers his neck. But the part that unnerves Archer the most is his expressionless helmet. She can usually tell much about a person when she sees their face so it unnerves her that she cannot inspect this potential enemy.  Seeing someone’s face and facial reactions usually gives her much insight about the person, so is disappointed not to be able to inspect this Servant.

The knight cocks his head to one side. “Have we met before, Archer?”

She thinks it a stupid question. “I wouldn’t know Lancer,” she says drily. “I don’t know who you are.”

The knight nods. If Archer could see his face, she would imagine that he blinked at her statement. He must have felt foolish for asking such a question.

Archer looks away. She feels slightly guilty for snapping at the knight.

* * *

 

42 hours. It has been 42 hours since Archer was summoned. It has also been 42 hours that she has stayed awake. Fortunately for her, she no longer has a human body to feel the effects of sleep deprivation, despite her Master’s claims to the contrary. But she is not going to sleep when there is another Servant of dubious origins resting under the same roof. There is something about Lancer that puts Archer on edge.

Sunlight pouring through the window warms her gauntleted hands. The ground outside still possesses marks from their battle yesterday. Brown patches of wet earth lie beside upended mounds of grass and scorched circles ruin the otherwise peaceful yard.

The sounds of rustling clothing alert her that her Master has emerged from the bathroom. Despite being fully clothed, Rin rummages through her closet. Archer spares a second longer to indulge her curiosity before turning back to the view outside.

“Do not ignore me, Archer.” Rin holds a bundle of clothes in her hand and walks towards Archer, the towel on her head threatening to fall with every step. “Here.”

Archer takes the clothes being handed to her and blinks. “What am I to do with these, Master?”

Rin gives her a withering look. She still looks somewhat half-asleep. Mornings must not agree with her. “What else do you do with clothes, Archer? Eat them?”

The Servant shrugs. “When one has not eaten for days…”

Rin’s lips twitch. “Wear them. I’m going somewhere today and I need you to accompany me.” She walks over to the mirror and unravels her hair from the towel.

Archer stands and inspects a piece of clothing resembling a doublet albeit much simpler and less fitting. “I see. But modern clothes are not necessary-”

“You can’t go out dressed like _that._ ”

Archer’s eyes narrow. She does not appreciate her Master’s implication that there is something wrong with her apparel. However, Archer notes, given modern standards, perhaps there is. “I can accompany you in spirit form, Master.” She says instead.

“You can’t fight in spirit form.” Rin says while vigorously rubbing her hair with the towel. “Too much time could be wasted in shifting. No, I need you corporeal and prepared.”

Archer nods. Her Master has a point. 

“I have chosen well.” Rin smiles with a glint in her eye. “The jacket suits you, it brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Jacket? So this is what it’s called? Archer nods and smiles back. Her Master does not have to know that her clothes are somewhat ill-fitting in… certain areas. She hopes that Rin would not mind if she were to accidentally rip her clothes in the midst of battle while summoning her armor.

“Now, let’s go.” Rin says as they go down the stairs. “We can leave Shirou and Lancer here to guard the house and fix the mess from yesterday.”

They find the other pair in the living room. Shirou is reading a magazine while Lancer stands by a wall, looking for all the world like a statue of plate armor. Shirou stands to greet them.

The hair on Archer’s neck suddenly rise. She slowly looks over her shoulder and finds Lancer’s eerie helmet gazing at her. She feels unnaturally vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny. He does not appear to notice her discomfort. In fact, he seems just as frozen as she is.

Archer itches to summon her bow and armor. Anything to give her some degree of security back. Why does he look at her so? Has he recognized her?

Her eyes narrow. _Is that why he asked me if we knew each other yesterday?_

“Lancer. What is your identity? Who are you?” She asks, fighting back the anxiety growing on her chest.

And as if her question breaks him out of his stupor, Lancer relaxes. The shift is so imperceptible as such that Archer isn’t sure that he was ever _not_ relaxed. “Why ask me this? Did we not reach an agreement yesterday?”

She licks her lips. “That was yesterday.” Her mouth is dry. “You recognized me today.”   

The joints on Lancer’s jousting helmet creak slightly as he cocks his head to one side. “What makes you say that?”

“You froze when you saw me.”

“Ah. Most people would assume that I…” Lancer coughs, crosses his arms and leans against a wall. “Found you beautiful.”

Archer’s eyes narrow dangerously. _Lancer’s voice is oddly familiar, but I get the feeling that something is wrong here._ “Most people do not find themselves in a war where assumptions are dangerous.”

“Yet that is what _you’re_ doing.” Lancer states bluntly.

“And what _you’re_ doing is called beating around the bush!” Archer’s temper flares as she realizes that she is caught in a dangerous disadvantage where another Servant might know her identity but she has no clue of theirs. “A _true_ knight would give their name when asked. As the code of chivalry demands.” She says, hoping to gain some insight into Lancer’s character, if not gain his name outright.

“You would know?” Lancer says sarcastically, shaking his head. Archer bristles slightly at this statement. Her class, Archer, is not one of the knight classes for nothing. “A _true knight_ who gives their identity when asked, endangering not only themselves but also their Master, would be a fool who doesn’t deserve the title.” He continues.

 _Lancer’s words sound condescending, but echo oddly. As if there is no conviction in what he says. Or it means that he has specific views of what a knight should be. It seems like he views idealistic knights with the cynicism of a veteran._ “Do you then, not believe in the knight’s code?”

Lancer sighs. “Giving my identity in such a manner is obviously detrimental. You have not given me yours as I recall, Archer. There is no reason for me to give mine.”

“You recognized me. I saw you falter momentarily when you saw me.” Archer glares at Lancer. “Your shoulders rose by a fraction, Lancer. You were wondering what to do. A man does not freeze in such a manner upon seeing an attractive woman.”

Lancer’s fingers curve slightly inward, the only indication of frustration. Archer notes that being keenly aware of the body’s actions is a very useful skill, especially in deciphering lies and motives. Lancer, however, gives very little away. A characteristic not usually found in knights, who, as a rule, do not even consider the option of deceit.

 _But who are you Lancer? You recognized me on sight. You’re a veteran knight famous and formidable enough to be called as a Servant._ Archer’s stomach drops as she considers who Lancer could possibly be. _You have to be one of the Round. But which one?_

“Are you still trying to figure out my identity? You should stop wasting your time, Archer.” Lancer says as he watches her observe him. “You can spend the entire day, our entire alliance even, trying to figure out my identity. It would bring you no benefit.” 

“I am _not_ wasting my time, Lancer.” Archer says, gritting her teeth. “Not finding out your identity while you are aware of mine is nothing short of foolish.”

“Is that true, Lancer?” Rin finally interrupts the discussion she had been watching with Shirou. “Are you aware of my Servant’s identity?” The two Masters have left their seats on the couch and are now watching their Servants carefully.

“Don’t bother, Master.” Archer exhales. “He won’t answer you because he’s nothing but a-“

_A coward…_

_A coward, veteran knight of the Round, who can recognize me on sight, and is loathe to give their identity…_ Archer’s eyes widen as she comes to a conclusion. _There is only one person I know of who fits that description._

Lancer cocks his head to one side at Archer’s sudden pause. Archer doesn’t miss a beat and summons her weapons and armor, surprising the others. She takes out her dagger and charges Lancer. Using a bow in such close quarters would be very difficult.

The other Servant reacts quickly and steps away from the wall. “What are you doing?” He hisses through his helmet slits as he grapples with Archer for the control of the dagger. Their Masters yell at them to stop.

“You bastard!” Archer yells and kicks Lancer harshly in the ribs, the steel parts of their armor clanging as she does. “No wonder you wouldn’t tell me who you are!”

Lancer is forced back by the force of the kick and trips over a table. Archer jumps over him and stabs downward. “What on earth are you talking about?” Lancer catches her wrist and uses his legs to turn her over.

Archer rolls and changes her grip on the dagger to thrust it into the gaps in Lancer’s armor. Lancer shifts at the right moment, making the dagger hit protected plate instead. He rolls away from Archer and stands. Archer does the same.

“What are you doing? Stop fighting!” Shirou exclaims. In their struggle, neither of them has realized that their Masters have come closer. Rin stays a safe distance behind Archer, while Shirou is inching towards his Servant.

“Stay away from Lancer, Shirou!” Archer steps back and sheathes her dagger. “He is untrustworthy.” She says as she summons her bow.

“Untrustworthy?” Lancer draws the cavalry sword from his hip. “That is a low blow, Archer. I am not the one attacking without provocation.” He readies the sword in a defensive stance.

“Can you ple-” Shirou tries to stop the two Servants.

“You deserve far worse than that, Mordred.” Archer says with conviction through gritted teeth as she aims an arrow at the other Servant. “Far worse.”

“What?” Lancer exclaims, his sword dipping slightly. “I am not Mordred!”

_Using a bow in such close quarters is difficult, but if I can fire before Lancer closes in-_

Shirou looks back and forth desperately at the two Servants about to kill each other. “Lancer. Stop it! Show us your identity!”

“Are you mad?” Lancer’s helmet inches slightly towards his Master. “I will not give in to such-”

“I will use a command seal if I have to!” Shirou yells, probably preparing to jump between the two Servants to stop them. “Show us your identity! Prove to Archer that you aren’t who she says you are.”

Lancer growls frustratedly and tightens his grip on the sword. Archer inhales and holds her breath, seconds away from launching an arrow.

The joints of Lancer’s gauntlets creak from the force of his grip. Then he sighs. His helmet wavers and then it fades. His hold on the sword slackens.

Lancer observes Archer warily, his stance more relaxed from before, but still ready to react at any given moment. Archer observes him in return. She cannot determine the emotion flashing through his face. Anger? Frustration at being forced to reveal his identity? Is there also shame?

_Emerald green eyes, short blond hair, a determined set of the jaw… Why does he-? It infuriates me that the Knight of Treachery looks so much like his ‘father’. Gawain bore ‘him’ a striking resemblance, but Mordred looks almost exactly like..._

“Archer.” Rin puts a hand on her Servant’s shoulder. “Put down your bow.”

“But Mordred-“ Her hands clutch her bow tighter.

“I. Am. Not. Mordred.” Lancer snarls. Then he closes his eyes and sighs. “Does this look like Clarent to you, _Archer_?” He says in a more subdued manner, waving the sword around.

Something inside Archer recoils at the way he says her class.

 _You have to be Mordred. There’s no one else you can be. You have to be Mordred._ Archer’s chest grows heavy, her throat feels dry. _Or maybe one of the Orkney brothers! Gawain had blonde hair, and Agravaine was certainly a coward…_

“This is not Clarent.” Lancer steps forward. “And you… know who I am.” He says softly, resignedly even. Archer instinctively steps back, bumping into Rin.

 _No. No, I do not. Surely, the fates are not so cruel as to-_ Her hands waver. _One of the Orkney clan definitely._

“Do you not, Guinevere?” Lancer stops a few feet away from Archer and Rin.

_Guinevere… I- You-_

Archer looks away and dematerializes her bow. Her shoulders sag. Gone is the woman who was so insistent just a moment ago. In her place is a woman who has found what the saying ‘be careful what you wish for’ means.

“I…” She mutely shakes her head. She cannot bring herself to look at the other Servant. She has to face the fact that Lancer is her husband, King Arthur, the one person she had failed the most. Meeting even Sir Lancelot in this situation would have been less awkward and hurtful.

The Servant in front of her is King Arthur. No amount of reasoning, pleading, or selective obliviousness will change that. Her ‘husband’ may be a man now, but Archer has seen him in this state often enough to recognize this form, thanks to Merlin. He looks older, as a man in his twenties rather than a boy of fifteen. He stands a full head taller than her now, a fact she ironically notes, being the taller of the two when they were alive.

 “Guinevere?” Shirou asks softly, standing behind his Servant. “ _The_ _Queen_ Guinevere?”

“I am not a Queen.” Archer is unable to stop the words that flow bitterly from her mouth. She fidgets once she has realized what she said. She feels her King’s heavy gaze upon her, condemning and judging. Or maybe that is just what she wishes it was. She grits her teeth.

_I should have seen it. I should have recognized him from the start. This knight, the Once and Future King. The knight that gave very little away… you were always so stoic, Arthur. I should have known it was you._

“Lancer…” Rin looks at the Servants, interrupting the growing tension between the two. “You were asked to give your identity as I recall.”

“Ah.” Lancer hesitates, his eyes still on Archer. “I am known as Arthur Pendragon. Sometimes, also Arturia.” Lancer pauses and looks at the Masters. “Although the two of you might know me better as Saber.”  

“Saber!” The two Masters exclaim in unison.

“Yes. Although, I am Lancer now.” Lancer says almost absently.

Archer feels Lancer’s gaze upon her again. She wonders why the two Masters would know him as Saber, but the myriad emotions she is feeling overwhelms her too much for her to think properly. “Master,” She says, desperation in her voice. “If you no longer have need of me, I will be in spirit form.”

Then she fades without waiting for her Master’s reply.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

End of Chapter 3

Wiseup!

Class: **Archer**

Master: Tohsaka Rin

True Name: Guinevere Pendragon

Sex: Female

Height/Weight: 165 cm (5’ 5”) / 56 kg

Alignment: Lawful Good

Strength: **C+** (D)

Endurance: **C+** (D)

Agility: **B+** (C)

Magical Energy: **C** (E)

Luck: **A++** (A)

Noble Phantasm: **??**

Class Abilities

**Magic Resistance: C -** Cancel spells with a chant below two verses. Cannot defend against Magecraft on the level of _High-Thaumaturgy_ and _Greater Rituals._

 **Independent Action: B+** – There are very few who can tell Archer what she can or cannot do. A lifetime of being followed without question has given Guinevere a great degree of initiative. It is possible for this Servant to stay in the world for two days without a Master.

Skills

**Grace of God: B+** – Guinevere is widely regarded as the most beautiful woman of her time, something that has also caused her great trouble. She was abducted several times due to her beauty and had to be rescued, to the frustration and worry of King Arthur. The skill denotes the “beauty of royalty”, and being blessed with God’s grace of the greatest body and good looks.

 **Incitement: C-** (B) – Incitement is a skill that functions as the acquisition of the words and gestures to lead the citizens and the masses. She was very loved by the people of Britain and was regarded as the ‘warm sun to the King’s cold moon’. Its former rank of B is greatly reduced due to her ‘betrayal’ of King Arthur and their people.

 **Eye of the Mind (True): E** – A heightened capacity for observation, refined through experience. This ability at this rank can be used to gauge an opponent’s next move or motive and is very useful in diplomacy. In battle conditions, this ability is only useful for fighting a few opponents.

 **Cultural Sphere - The Land: The British Isles (or the United Kingdom and Ireland)** \- Being summoned in her homeland has increased Archer’s stats by approximately one step and a modifier (+/-). Venturing to France or North America will increase her stats by one modifier only due to her legend’s influence upon the lands’ culture.

 **Author’s Note** **:** Fate verse wise, Guinevere is all but nonexistent aside from comments by Lancelot and Saber. I wanted to make her exist somehow and Archer seemed to be the most appropriate. I was also considering Rider and Caster, but I have the impression that Rider is most known by their famous mounts and Guinevere has none that I know of. Caster is more malleable I suppose but in Arthurian legend, Morgana Le Fay and Merlin overshadow any other magic users that I know of. So, why Archer? Guinevere had to learn how to defend herself somehow since those days were NOT safe. Again by process of elimination, she cannot use a sword practically since using a sword means that you fight on the front lines, same with a spear/lance. As King Leodegrance's daughter, and eventually King Arthur's queen, she cannot fight on the front lines no matter how good she might possibly be. On the other hand, using a bow and arrow, with a dagger for close combat is much more 'safe'.

 

 **Credits to betas:** Cori Shadowfang, darkladywolf, Caliburn0, and Universe Creator

 


	4. The Beard King

**Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Four – The Beard King**

**Author’s Note:** This will be the first of the Past one-shots taking place in King Arthur’s time. Like the legends themselves, the setting will be anachronistic and I do not claim that anything written here is historically or canonically accurate. Although I’ll try… J

 

_5 th Century Britain_

_Cameliard_

 

Arturia stands still as her squire tightens the straps of her armor. Breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, all are shined and ready for battle. The squire lays her helmet on the table and bows before he leaves. Arturia dismisses him with a nod. An opened letter lays next to her helmet, a letter from the King of Cameliard—an old ally of Uther’s and the first to pledge his allegiance to King Arthur—requesting for aid against King Rience.

 

She was all too glad to rally her troops and ride to Cameliard with haste. Aside from helping a valued ally, she was given the chance to meet King Rience in battle. Her eyes narrow as she remembers the haughty messenger Rience sent to Camelot who demanded her beard and undying loyalty else her kingdom will be destroyed. It took a great deal of effort not to chop the messenger’s head off and send it back to his liege.

 

A ridiculous man with a ridiculous custom. Collecting beards from rival lords and kings? What purpose does that serve?

 

“King Arthur.” A scout enters her tent and lays a fist over his chest. “We have spotted two armies fighting by a riverbank two leagues away. The smaller army flies black and gold.”

 

Cameliard’s colors. Arturia grabs the knight guarding her tent. “Inform Bedivere to ready the troops and to get here as soon as possible.” She turns back to the scout. “Is the smaller army in danger of being overwhelmed?”

 

“They were holding their own when we left, Your Majesty. Lieutenant Bendric and ten of his men stayed behind to help the men of Cameliard.”

 

She nods and inspects the war table. A map of the surrounding area is laid on it. Pieces representing her armies, the armies of Leodegrance, and those of Rience are placed at strategic points. Arturia moves them around based on the scout’s information and a plan starts forming in her head.

 

They ride when ready.

* * *

 

 

Arturia's troops reach Cameliard in a state of turmoil. She can smell the iron scent of blood through her helmet. She raises her sword and spurs her horse, Llamrei, on, signaling the advance. Rience’s infantry topple before the charge of her cavalry. They scatter the enemy around, making them easy pickings for the Cameliard army.

 

Archers from above shoot at will, aiming for the reinforcements arriving from northeast. Arturia maneuvers Llamrei successfully, slaughtering enemies left and right. Leodegrance’s army is emboldened by the arrival of allies and they fight with increased fervor.

 

The enemy fights back just as fiercely, driven with the desperation of survival. She laments that such men are wasted fighting for a liege like Rience. She grimaces and moves forward, decapitating someone giving orders. “Reinforce the right wing!” She yells.

 

The battle stops for a second once smoke coming from the east rises into the sky. Merlin and Kay must have found the enemy’s supply lines and destroyed them as she has ordered them to.

 

“It matters not! Keep fighting, men! For we shall have Cameliard soon!”

 

Arturia spares what attention she can to find the voice that had spoken. The voice that had sparked the enemy’s will to fight must be Rience’s. Now they fight with more than just desperation. They also fight with revenge and greed.

 

“Stand your ground!” A captain from Cameliard’s army shouts.

 

This needs to end soon. More and more Breton blood is spilled the longer this battle endures. “Bedivere!”

 

“My lord?” Her marshal grunts as he shoves a sword through a knight’s armpit.

 

“Cut me a path to King Rience.” Arturia blocks an incoming sword.

 

“Bedivere,” She repeats as he hesitates.

 

“We cannot hold the path for long, my lord. The enemy is still too numerous.”

 

“Then don’t hold it.”

 

“We will not leave you stranded in the middle of enemy forces. My lord,” He says with uncharacteristic defiance.

 

Arturia grits her teeth. They do not have time to argue. “It was not a request, Bedivere.” She does not need his permission. She raises Caliburn. Despite being covered in blood, the sword still shines in the sunlight. “Cavalry! Cut me a path to the Beard King!”

 

Her cavalry heeds her call and charges in. The enemy parts before the lances like the Red Sea.

 

Arturia readies her lance and strikes it against King Rience's horse as he charges at her. The Beard King falls and hastily grabs his sword. "I shall have your beard false-king!"

 

Arturia unmounts Llamrei and draws Caliburn. "As I have said, Rience, I have no beard nor a knee that would bend in your presence. I shall have your head for your impudence." For waging a war over your ridiculous collection of beards.

 

"Ha! We shall see!" Rience closes the gap between them and strikes Arturia. Their swords clang loudly.

 

Rience is a powerful man, every inch the arrogant king she thought he’d be. His gilded crown glints atop his head, contrasting with his red hair. His eyes are intelligent, scheming, and proud. His sword is well made, sturdy and covered in nicks from previous battles. Every inch the dictator. Have men like him lorded over the people since Uther’s death?

 

Rience circles and attacks her right side. She turns and blocks him but he smiles in wicked glee and tries to use his greater height and weight to his advantage, he pushes forward, trying to overpower Arturia.

She, however, digs her heels in and gives him no quarter, her dragon heritage easily matching her against him. She stands her ground and shifts her stance, analyzing Rience for weaknesses.

 

The Beard King is, while a strong man and a formidable warrior, an impatient person. Arturia breaks the deadlock and strafes to his flank. Rience follows and strikes again. Arturia dodges his overhead slash and stabs him in the bicep. While she knows that it will do little damage, it might numb his arm and possibly enrage him.

 

This deadly dance goes on for a while with Arturia dodging his attacks and exploiting his openings, and Rience getting more and more reckless with his swings.

 

"Is this the best you can do, Rience?" The boy-king taunts, attacking with an upward swing and getting within her enemy's guard. She hits Rience's unprotected side with her knee, forcing him to fall and drop his sword.

 

Arturia hits the side of his helmet with Caliburn, causing it to turn to the side and depriving him of his vision. He frantically tries to turn his helmet back but stops when he feels the tip of the Sword of Appointment touching his Adam's apple.

 

King Arthur's army cheers for their liege. The Beard King’s army is moments away from retreating from the battlefield. She had not noticed that the fighting has dwindled during their duel.

 

Arturia smiles coldly and raises her sword.

 

"Wait!"

 

She is about to behead Rience when Caliburn is violently swept aside-- by a staff?

 

"Merlin, what is the meaning of this?!" The King demands, fixing her grip on Caliburn.

 

"Your Majesty, let me explain." Her teacher starts and steps on King Rience's breastplate to ensure that he stays. "Repaying malice with malice will only deepen the hatred. You should not demand a head for a head or a beard for a beard.”

 

She frowns. “What do you propose then?”

 

Merlin’s cat eyes shine with mischief as he proposes her plan.

 

Arturia blinks, considering it. Then she raises the visor of her helmet, revealing a predatory grin. "I suppose that is a fitting punishment. See to it then, Merlin."

 

As the King decrees, the deed is done. King Rience and his brother Nero, will be laughingstocks of the kingdom for the rest of their lives. All who look upon them will be reminded of the folly (and embarrassment) of challenging the High King.

* * *

 

Arturia has managed to break away from her overjoyed and boisterous men for a quiet moment by the stream. She removes her helmet and works out the cricks in her neck.

 

"Here Llamrei. Now don't run off with that, or I'll have a lot of explaining to do." She tells her horse as she ties the Sword of Appointment by Llamrei's side. The horse snorts in consent and rubs his head against his master. Arturia smiles and pats her horse's neck.

 

She moves away and lays her helmet on the ground, leaving the horse to graze.

 

"Oh! What a beautiful horse!"

 

Arturia whirls around, hand moving towards the dagger by her waist, seeking the source of the sound.

 

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, Sir Knight."

 

The High King is struck dumb by the image in front of her. A fair maiden, wearing a simple dress that did not detract in any way from her beauty. In fact, it may have even accentuated it. Her chestnut hair was framing her face as she averted her eyes. For a woman to look at a man, which Arturia was supposed to be, straight in the eye was a breach of etiquette. The maiden was fidgeting and her right hand was fiddling with the base of her neck.

 

Arturia coughs and also averts her eyes. It was not polite to stare at a lady. "Nay, my lady. The fault is not with you. Certain habits are… hard to let go of."

 

Arturia sees the maiden raise her face and smile from the corner of her eye. With a shade of blue found in the sky, the maiden possessed the most enchanting eyes she had ever seen.

 

"The horse, then, he is yours?" The maiden finally asks after stealing glances at the knight.

 

_She is probably wondering if I can be trusted._

 

Arturia nods and smiles, turning to her horse. "His name is Llamrei." She takes the reigns and walks him over to the maiden. She takes care to put her body between them since her horse is the unruly sort.

 

"He is beautiful." The maiden whispers, making the King smile in return.

 

"That he is. Although he possesses a temperament to match, I am afraid."

 

The maiden then looks at the knight as if she is pondering something. "If I may ask, kind sir, did you fight in the battle earlier?"

 

"I did, yes. Against King Rience."

 

The maiden looks relieved for a moment then averts her eyes and hesitates.

 

"Is there something you would like to know, my lady?" Arturia asks, puzzled at her behavior.

 

"How- how did the battle go? I am hoping that all went well, and you did say that you fought against King Rience… but…"

 

Arturia observes the maiden for a moment, trying to understand why she is asking. She might be worried for a friend who fought against King Rience, a possibility that Arturia prefers. If this maiden was on the humiliated King's side, she might be forced to consider the option of holding her for ransom. A rather deplorable-

 

"My lord?" The maiden prompts and Arturia realizes that she has been frowning.

 

"My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to cause you distress. As for the answer to your question, King Rience was defeated on the battlefield and his armies were routed."

 

"Thank the Lord." The maiden sighs with relief. She smiles at the knight. "No doubt one such as you has contributed much to the battle."

 

Arturia chuckles and shakes her head. "Not exactly." She did not do much other than duel with Rience. Although one might compare that as playing with one's food before eating it.

 

The sound of a bell coming from Castle Cameliard interrupts their discussion. The maiden's eyes widen. "I- I need to get back." She has taken a few steps towards the castle before turning back to the knight. "I did not get your name, kind Sir."

 

"Wart. It is Wart." The King blurts. She does not know why she says her brother's nickname for her.

 

"Wart." The maiden repeats. "'Tis a peculiar name." The bell rings again and the maiden becomes frantic. "I greatly apologize for leaving so, Sir Wart. I hope that we will be able to speak once more." She says as she walks briskly in the direction of the castle. It is odd how she can make walking briskly look elegant.

 

"Fare thee well, my lady!" 'Wart' raises a hand in farewell. The bell has rung twice. It is also important for her to go to the castle, but not for a while yet. King Arthur is only required to attend the evening feast held in his honor, going to the castle before that would only be a courtesy.

 

Arturia rubs her neck and watches Llamrei graze. She would only be a nuisance if she were to go now. Maybe she can get some rest in her tent for a few hours. As she picks her helmet up, she notes that she hadn't been able to get the maiden's name.

* * *

 

After the feast held in her honor last night, Arturia agreed to meet with King Leodegrance in his study to discuss the invasions. She sits on a couch by the fireplace in her borrowed room. She holds a ledger in one hand, and a quill on the other.

 

Leodegrance has not summoned her yet. There is still time to finish tallying a portion of their expenses.

 

"Seven hundred horseshoes, four hundred saddles, several rolls of rope, thirteen bales of hay…" The tip of the quill scratches across parchment as she mutters to herself.

 

A sharp knock on the door interrupts her accounting. She suppresses a sigh as she bids the guard to come in.

 

"My lord." He thumps a hand on his chest and bows slightly. "The King has… um.." The guard falters as he glances at her. "Lord Leodegrance has bid me to tell you that he is free, my lord. Er, Your Majesty." His tone is unsure.

 

Arturia smiles in pity for the guard. Titles and proper forms of address are very important to the nobility, an innocent mistake can earn a lifetime of enmity, or worse. Learning the nuances of court etiquette was not something she, herself, found enjoyable. Neither does she find the stammering and the scampering of nervous courtiers particularly endearing.

 

Once she is King--a proper High King, she will eradicate this stifling atmosphere. She will make it so that people will not fear punishment so much that they will be afraid to make mistakes that they can learn from.

 

"King Leodegrance is still a King, sir." She corrects him gently as she puts the ledger under a pile of similar parchment. "You may call both of us King."

 

"Y-yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord."

 

She nods and hooks Caliburn to her side. "Let us be off, then."

 

The guard blinks at her but then he bows and leads her to King Leodegrance's study.

 

Arturia sighs inwardly as the lone guard showing her the way eventually turned into an impromptu escort. The guards escorting her are as nervous as the first one, yet their shoulders and back are pulled straight.

 

"Where are your guards, my lord?" Leodegrance asks her, he seemed somewhat surprised when he opened the door to his study to find her escorted by his own men.

 

"I have given them the day off. I don't need an escort, King Leodegrance."

 

The brown-haired man chuckles. "Apologies, King Arthur. The men look up to you. After all, if you hadn't arrived when you did, Rience might have sacked our castle or stole livestock from the villages. They are… proud to have you as their High King."

 

Arturia blinks. "I… see. I didn't realize."

 

"Our actions are far-reaching, my lord. They have more effects than we realize. Yours moreso than mine." Leodegrance stands and leads her to his war table. A crudely drawn map of lower Britain is spread out over it. "But you did not agree to speak with me to hear a lecture."

 

Arturia smiles and points to a portion of the map. She feels much more comfortable discussing matters of war. "You are concerned about the presence of the Saxons here, yes?"

* * *

 

"King Lot and Duke Eustace do not support me?"

 

"There was no love lost between them and your father."

 

For a moment, Arturia wonders how Sir Ector knows these people. Then she figures that Leodegrance was probably speaking of her real father, Uther. "I am not my father though."

 

The two Kings have spent hours discussing various matters of warfare. The recent topic-- and the most important in her opinion-- is what should be done regarding the eleven Kings who have risen up against King Arthur.

 

King Leodegrance looks at her with an appraising gaze. "No, you are not. Most peculiar indeed," he says with some amusement.

 

Arturia narrows her eyes in confusion. "Peculiar? What do you-"

 

Two sharp knocks interrupt her question. Who would be brazen or foolhardy enough to interrupt a meeting between the King of Cameliard and the High King?

 

Leodegrance frowns in annoyance and murmurs apologies as he rises from his seat. He walks to the door and converses silently with the person on the other side.

 

His motions become more active, agitated even as the conversation goes on.

 

"Is it important, Leodegrance?" She asks politely even as her curiosity peaks. "We can continue our discussion another time if it is."

 

The brown-haired man turns back to her, his eyes apologetic. "Are you certain, my lord? Deigning to summon you was bad enough. Postponing our discussion-"

 

"Will allow you to concentrate on other important matters." Arturia completes his sentence. She stands up and sips the remaining wine in her cup. Leodegrance still looks divided and guilty as he stands by the doorway. He is a tall man, easily hiding whoever he was talking to behind the door.

 

"Truth be told, all this talking has exhausted me," Arturia lies. She is not tired at all. But something important must have come up if he was acting so agitated.

 

"Yes, Father. It is getting rather late."

 

Her eyebrows rise as another voice speaks. Leodegrance sighs. He moves away from the door once he notices that her attention has shifted.

 

"My lord," He leads--or half drags-- a woman by her elbow into the room. "May I present my daughter, Princess Guinevere of Cameliard."

 

There is something familiar about her. Arturia cannot put a finger to it, but she feels as if she has seen the young lady before.

 

"Guinevere, this is the High King of Britain and the man who led us to victory yesterday, Arthur Pendragon." Leodegrance frowns slightly at Arturia. Apparently, he was waiting for her to introduce herself as courtesy dictates.

 

Arturia coughs. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." She inclines her head, not too much because that would be too subservient and not too little because that would be rude. Arturia reaches out her right hand, asking for the Princess'.

 

The Princess only blinks her blue eyes at her. Perhaps she isn't the only one inwardly groaning about etiquette and all its rules, Arturia muses.

 

"You- you aren't the King."

 

That… was not the right response. Arturia frowns. "What?"

 

"You are not the King." The Princess--Guinevere-- repeats. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Arturia.

 

The fair maiden from the river! It's her! She now wears a more elegant dress and her hair is styled just as elegantly, but it is her. So this is what she looks like without hair falling over her face. The similarity between father and daughter is very apparent now that they are standing beside each other. The same blue eyes, the same hazelnut hair, the same lean build… although their facial features are different. The Princess must take after her mother.

 

"Guinevere!" Leodegrance grips his daughter's elbow tightly, his face reflecting barely restrained anger. "What on earth are you talking about?"

 

"Ah-" The Princess opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She casts frantic eyes over Arturia, searching for something.

 

"King Leodegrance."

 

"King Arthur. I… I beg your pardon, my lord. My daughter is perhaps, just tired after all the-"

 

Arturia exchanges glances with the Princess and then shakes her head. "I am afraid that the fault is with me, my lord."

 

Her statement is met by blue-eyed stares from father and daughter. Confusion from the former and disbelief from the latter. She ignores them both.

 

"I had introduced myself as a knight who fought against King Rience's armies and not as King Arthur when the Princess and I had met yesterday, so the Princess might have thought I was trying to fool you by pretending I was the King."

 

The Princess' shoulders sag in relief and she looks at Arturia with gratitude.

 

"You- you met? Where did you meet?" King Leodegrance's eyes flash as he looks at her daughter.

 

Guinevere's look of gratitude turns frantic once more. And Arturia remembers how she had ran from the river yesterday.

 

"By a castle tower." Arturia looks away as if she is trying to remember where exactly they met. Merlin has told her before that her eyes gives her away when she lies. "One with a window on it. The Princess was leaning against it, looking as if she was waiting for something."

 

Please let her guess be right. That Guinevere ran back to the castle once the bell had rang because she wasn't allowed to leave. Arturia suppresses a gulp as Leodegrance remains silent. He frowns slightly at her, trying to suppress the wariness in his eyes. She wonders idly how much more menacing Leodegrance would be if she wasn’t his liege.

 

He turns to his daughter. “You were supposed to be taking your lessons.”

 

“There was a war going on! Enemies were right outside the castle, father. And I-” The Princess bites her lip. “I couldn’t concentrate. I’m sorry.”

 

Her guess wasn’t accurate it seems. But she has meddled enough in family affairs. “Shall we continue our discussion tomorrow then?” She asks the other king before an awkward silence can develop.

 

“Yes, my lord. Thank you.” Leodegrance bows slightly.

 

“A pleasant evening to you, King Leodegrance, Princess.” Arturia nods at the two royals who nod in return. She is certain they have more to discuss that are not for her ears to hear.

 

As she departs the king’s study, she wonders why she had felt the urge to lie--she did lie-- for someone she barely knew.

 

 


	5. War and Peace

**A Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Five– War and Peace**

_5 th Century Britain_

_The Battle of Bedegraine_

“Surrender, King Lot!”

Their swords collide with a resounding clang. The men forming a makeshift duel circle mutter amongst themselves. The smaller and more nimble knight jumps back. The knight ducks and her enemy’s sword whistles through the air, narrowly missing her head.

“Never!” The large beast of a man roars. Thunder rumbles across the sky, seemingly as an answer to his call.  It is something superstitious men might interpret as an omen of defeat or victory. But they see signs where there are none. The knight does not know which of them the gods favor, but she does not care. She will not fall here. She will not yield to any force, otherworldly or otherwise. She will stand and she will fight. But first, she has to defeat this man.

She grips Caliburn tightly in her right hand.  Despite mowing through hordes of horses and men, its blade remains as smooth and as sharp as the day it was pulled out of the stone. She raises her shield and charges. There is a weakness in King Lot’s stance. He turns and twists his greatsword of iron over his head, seeking to bat aside the smaller king. She ducks and advances, sword aimed at his armpit. Caliburn slices easily through his mail and King Lot cries out in agony and rage. She grins.

_This will be over soon._

And then he hits her with his heavy sword.

She raises her shield just in time for it to take the brunt of the attack, but the force of it throws her off her feet. She grunts as she lands. Her body tumbles, arms flailing as her shield is wrenched from her hands by her own momentum just before her helmet strikes the dirt. Mud seeps into the gaps in her armor as the knight gathers her feet under her.

_That was premature._

“Foolish boy!” King Lot bellows as he clutches his wound. One of his men step forward to try and help him but the large man pushes him away. “Do you think winning a few battles makes you King?”

Her shield is broken, splintered apart by that blasted sword. She gives it a regretful glance and realizes that her left hand is also broken. She grits her teeth.

_I will not fall here. I will stand and fight. For if I do not, then my kingdom has ended before it has even begun._

She stands up and ignores the pains wracking her body. Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the dark puddles surrounding their makeshift arena.

“Do you?” King Lot keeps talking as he watches the knight get up. “Or is it that sword of yours? The _Sword in the Stone_.” A few of his men snicker. He spits on the ground. “ _King Arthur_. Bah. You are nothing more than a boy playing at ruling.”

He is telling her nothing she has not asked herself before, so she do not respond. The knight raises Caliburn and wields it with two hands. Once more, she ignores her body telling her to stop moving, to just lie down and stop fighting.

“Come then, King Lot!” She points the Sword of Appointment at him. “Get a taste of this _boy’s_ blade!”

He stares at her in surprise and then he grins. Bruised and battered, the kings charge once again at each other. He hits her helmet with the flat of his blade, she pounds him in the gut and steps on his foot, he squeezes her broken hand. They cause each other great pain, but blow for blow she matches him in strength and speed. Their battle must look like an oddity, a large bearded warrior is being matched by a young child in dented armor. A classic David and Goliath match, if only David and Goliath had hacked each other into pieces.

The knight yells and punches him in the nose with her broken hand. Blood flies and bones crack on both sides of the gauntlet. King Lot flails and falls, clutching his bleeding nose. He reaches out for his greatsword but she kicks it away. His gray eyes stare at her, and she sees an inkling of respect in his eyes. The verdict has been decided. David has won.  

“Surrender, King Lot.” The knight gasps. It takes everything she has left just to remain standing. She hopes that her men cannot see that her legs are shaking.

Two of King Lot’s men jog to his side. Swords from her faction are unsheathed in retaliation. The knight ignores all of this. She places her sword against the other King’s neck as such that she could end his life with one flick of her wrist. Lot wipes his nose with his hand, slowly as to not provoke the sword against his throat. He shoots her a grin with a few teeth missing.

She scowls. She does not understand what he finds so amusing. Cannot he just surrender so they can all go home?

Blood drips down his chin as he laughs. “So there _is_ a reason you won all those battles after all. L-let me stand at least, ‘tis poor form to… surrender in such a manner.”

The knight lets out a sigh of relief and withdraws her sword. His men grab him in haste and help him stand.

“I, Lot Luwddoc,” He proclaims loud enough for everyone to hear, as if he did not come from a battle and had his nose broken. “King of Lothian and Orkney, surrender and swear fealty to the High King of Britain, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Eia! Salve Rex! Salve Rex!”

“Toileachas! Rìgh Artair!”

“Eia! Eia!”

The duel circle soon erupts in cheers. Men from both sides shout her name, or rather, they shout _Hail King Arthur! Long Live the King!_ A sudden wave of fatigue threatens to overwhelm her as the adrenaline fades.

“Come on,” Someone tugs at her sword and she resists until she realizes that it is her brother, Kay. He drapes a cloak over her shoulders and hands Caliburn off to a passing squire. “Let’s get you inside before you die of cold in this rain.”

Rain? She did not even realize that it was raining. “My sword…” She mumbles as she is being led away. Soon, she finds herself on a bed inside a sizeable tent that she assumes is hers. Her head starts to get foggy and her body feels light.

“That will be all, thank you.” Someone speaks and her armor stops moving. Was someone fiddling with it? “I can take it from here.”

“Lord Merlin. The King needs immediate-“

“Just Merlin please. And I can attend to King Arthur.”

“But-“

“Leave. Now.” Feet shuffle and her armor starts to move again.

“Merlin?” She opens my eyes but is unable to focus on the mage.

“Thank goodness I arrived before those healers took your clothes off. Else we would be in a _very_ uncomfortable situation.”

“My sword… Merlin.”

“I am here and you ask for your sword?” He huffs. “Do not fret, Arturia. Caliburn will be here when you wake. Now, go to sleep. You did well today.”

 

* * *

 

Her boots clink as she walks beside her brother. A hand casually rests atop Caliburn, but is ready to draw the sword at a moment’s notice. Farmers, knights, and merchants alike stop whatever they are doing and bow as they pass. Some do so out of respect, some out of awe, while some do it while hiding their scowls behind perfectly crafted smiles.

“How are you feeling, brother?” Sir Kay asks.

Arturia does not respond immediately. Normally, she would utter ‘I’m fine’ and dismiss all further thought of her own well-being, but somehow, she feels that it warrants more of her attention today. “Well enough,” She finally answers.

“I don’t mean just physically,” Kay continues. “Although you did take a beating from King Lot the other day…”

The war is officially over now. Duke Eustace of Cambenet, King Brandegoris of Stranggore, King Rience of North Wales, King Lot of Lothian and Orkney, King Idres of Cornwall and King Agwisance of Ireland have all surrendered and sworn fealty to Arthur, King Uriens of Gore escaped from the battlefield. Britain is finally reunited under the rule of the High King, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon.

“How are our allies doing?”

Kay frowns at his deflected question. He should know better than to expect much when he asks Arturia about her well-being. “Half of our allies are in their tents, celebrating and counting their spoils. The other half left yesterday, eager to get home before winter comes.”

“I see. Tell the men not to celebrate too much. We are still in conquered territory after all.”

Sir Kay draws closer to her and speaks in a lowered voice. “You think King Lot resents his defeat?”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t think King Lot is that sort of man. He’d rather challenge me to another duel than resort to underhanded means.” She stops at the peak of a steep slope. Men and women sweep dirt and mud out of their houses, muck-rakers clean the streets of much more than just muck, and carpenters hammer wood onto broken houses. “But his people might.”

Bodies are carted off by the hundreds. Beggars, commoners, soldiers, noblemen. Bodies of all kinds pile atop each other on the streets. Her hand grips Caliburn tightly. King Arthur has won the war. She only hopes that it was worth it.

Her brother sighs far too audibly. She scowls at him. “Stop frowning, brother,” He says. “And stop thinking such grim thoughts. You’ll get wrinkles and white hair before long.” He smirks at her.

She rolls her eyes. “You know that I don’t age normally anymore, Kay.”

“Exactly. You scoff now, but you might get wrinkles and white hair tomorrow!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her lips turn upward at her brother’s silly attempts to cheer her up.

He laughs softly and exhales. “We can’t do anything for the dead, Arthur. But we can help the living.” Kay looks at her, his eyes serious. “Don’t tell me you forgot what you fought so hard to secure Britain for. We can make the people’s lives better. Protect them from the Saxons and the Picts, from Vortigern. We owe it to the dead, to fight for what they no longer can. And they did not die in vain, brother. Because you won. You won and you will make Britain great again.”

Then he smirks and rubs her head. “No pressure or anything.”

She groans and bats his arm away. “Shut up.”

“Well said, Kay. Not as eloquent as I would have liked, but well said.” Merlin suddenly speaks, causing the foster siblings to cry out.

“Stop doing that, Merlin.” Arturia glares at the mage.

“Nonsense. Surprising you once in a while is healthy for the heart.”

She rolls her eyes. Fighting and leading wars stress her heart enough, thank you. “Why are you here?”

“King Leodegrance and his army will travel with us on our way back.” The mage says, fiddling with a branch he broke off as he leans against a tree.

“Very well.” Arturia nods. “We can stop at Cameliard before moving on to Camelot.”

“Yes.” Merlin drawls, causing Arturia to look at him warily. She should have known that her teacher would not play messenger without something in return. “I think the fair maiden would also like to see you again.”

She stiffens slightly and wonders how Merlin knew about her. The mage does have his weird ways and knows plenty that he shouldn’t, but there was something about the maiden, her innocence perhaps, that made the King wish Merlin didn’t know about her yet. She didn’t want the maiden to become his new plaything.

“Maiden? What maiden?” Kay asks.

“Leodegrance’s daughter. She met King Arthur when her father introduced them.” Merlin smiles, his cat-like eyes glinting. “Oh, but she met Wart before that. By the lake in front of the castle, yes?”

Arturia scowls and the hand that rests atop Caliburn twitches.

“Wart?” Kay is absolutely perplexed and looks at Arturia. “Your old nickname?”

“Yes,” She says curtly. “We cannot stand here chatting all day. We have things to do.” She turns and walks away without waiting for the two men to follow.

 

* * *

 

 **Author’s Note** :  _Toileachas_ and _Eia_ are both expressions of delight, much like the English ‘Hooray!’ or ‘Cheers!’. The former is Scottish-Gaelic while the latter is Latin. _Righ Artair_ is Scottish-Gaelic for ‘King Arthur’, and _Salve Rex_ is Latin for ‘Hail the King!’ Do correct me if I am wrong though, I used Google for these.

The Scottish-Gaelic expressions are yelled by King Lot’s men, while the Latin ones are yelled by Arturia’s own. While they don’t necessarily speak Latin in Britain (Britain was once a Roman outpost), I figured that adding expressions in other languages would be a nice touch.

On the topic of Arturia. In this stage of her life, she is prone to underestimating her opponents and acting rashly. She isn’t the undisputed King of Britain yet, but is in the act of tearing down the rebellions. I took inspiration from the few characteristics Saber Lily has, being more idealistic and ‘happier’ than her older counterpart, Saber.

Obviously, Arturia does _not_ look like Saber Lily here and is not called ‘Knight Princess’. But even as idealistic as she is now, she is starting to feel the burden of war. Or rather, the burden of the victor. Have you guys heard of a pyrrhic victory?                               


	6. War and Peace II

**A Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Six– War and Peace II**

 

_ 5 _ _ th _ _ Century Britain _

_ -Castle Cameliard- _

Guinevere’s breath fogs the window of her room and she uses her sleeve to wipe it off. Now clear of fog, the window reveals the world outside. The tips of the trees around the castle are flecked with white and woodsmen are handing over piles of wood to servants. Snow has started to fall. 

Winter has arrived and still her father is not home.

She moves away from the window and flops onto her bed, narrowly missing a thick book opened on a random page. It was in the middle of autumn when the Beard King assaulted their gates, when the High King had saved them from being overrun and cemented an alliance with her father. And it was because of that alliance that forces of Cameliard had marched off to war not a week after.

She supposes that she resents the High King somewhat for dragging her father to the North and involving them in his wars. War is bloody and people die. Many people die. And she has heard tales of how the Northmen fight like beasts, waving around two handed swords and cleaving men in half with them… 

Guinevere gulps. She turns and flips through the pages of the book beside her.  _ Beowulf _ . The hero of the Geats and slayer of the monster Grendel. She sighs and fervently hopes that the Northmen do not fight like Beowulf. 

If only King Arthur had not… 

What is she thinking? She has no right to begrudge the King his war. Especially since it is a war that will unite Britain under one rule, just as it was with King Uther. 

King Arthur. She does not understand him. He is not the man she’d thought King Arthur to be—a conqueror, a hero, tall, proud and charming. She had seen King Uther once, at a feast, while hiding behind her father. The Pendragon was a beast of a man, larger and broader than even King Leodegrance. She had heard from the servants that he drank a lot and she had heard his booming laughs even when she was not in the Great Hall. King Uther had an air about him… he was like a warrior from the tales.

Guinevere had expected King Arthur to be like Uther, albeit a younger version… but instead of being disappointed, she was just surprised. He was quiet, too short and too young. But just like his father, he had an air about him. A different air, softer and gentler, but still the aura of a King. 

But why did he lie for her? She would have expected a High King to look at her—a princess not following her father’s orders—with disdain, contempt, or even mild amusement. Not with… not with understanding. And to go to such lengths as to lie for her sake? 

She does not understand King Arthur at all. 

“Guinevere! Guineveere!”

Oh, who on earth is pounding on her door at this hour?

Guinevere slowly rolls to her feet and does not bother fixing her appearance as she walks over to the outer chamber. If the person on the other side is impatient and brazen enough to pound at her door, then they will have to excuse her bed-messed hair.

She gives the person on other side her best annoyed glare. Her cousin, Elyan, does not care in the slightest and enters her room with a smile on his face. His breath is slightly ragged, as if he had jogged all the way to her room. “We received a letter from a raven. It’s from your father.”

Guinevere’s eyes widen. “Father? H-how is he?”

“Settle down, Gwen. Your father is fine.” Elyan plops down on a chair, causing his unruly brown hair to fall over his face. He is dressed in a black doublet with gold trimmings and a steel cuirass on top—fitting clothes for her father’s temporary replacement.

“Well, what did the letter say?” She frowns a bit. It is just like him to withhold information just to tease her. Suspense, as he calls it.

“The war is over.” He grins at her as if he cannot believe what he is saying. "The war is over. We won."

"The war is... over?" That is good, right? No more people have to die now. "Is father coming home?"

Her cousin nods. "He'll be on his way back to Cameliard as soon as they... do what they have to. After war comes peace, and with peace comes diplomacy, after all."

Guinevere sighs in relief, leaning against a wall.

"Oh come on. Was I really doing that bad of a job?"

She opens an eye to see Elyan glaring at her. "Let us just say that administrative work is... not your strong suit, cousin."

"Well excuse you,  _ Princess _ ," He huffs and throws a grape at her. She is about to tell him that she  _ is _ a princess when he stands and says, "I haven't told you everything yet so stop interrupting me."

She raises an inquisitive eyebrow in response.

"The King said that- by  _ King _ I mean your father and not uh, King Arthur. It is rather confusing is it not?"

_ No, it isn't. _ Guinevere's glare due to his delaying tactics makes Elyan smirk.

"Anyway, he said that he won't be coming home alone."

"Of course he isn't! He's going to come back with the soldiers too."

"You know that's not what I meant, Gwen." Elyan pauses, for dramatic effect, as he calls it. "He's going to travel with King Arthur. Which means that the King- by King, I mean King Arthur- is coming here as well.”

Guinevere looks at him, perplexed. "He’s coming here? That is great, but… why?"

"It matters not. It's  _ King Arthur _ .  _ King Arthur.  _ He is coming here. To Cameliard." Elyan punctuates each phrase by slamming his fist into his palm. “Why are you so calm about this?” He exclaims once he sees that Guinevere is not as excited as he is. The knight’s adoration of the High King must have rubbed off on the temporary lord. 

"The King has been here before. He saved us from King Rience."

"Yes, I’ve heard. But he was not the High King, then. Not really." Elyan waves a hand nonchalantly and rubs his chin. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he nods and stands straight. "If the High King himself is coming to Cameliard, then we need to prepare."

"You mean something like a feast?”

He nods, face full of determination. "Among other things. And I am going to need your assistance, Gwen."

Ah. So  _ this _ is why he had rushed to her room instead of telling her the news tomorrow.

"We are going to have our hands full. So I expect you to give your utmost." Elyan claps her shoulder and walks toward the door.

"I haven't even given my consent yet." Guinevere blinks.

"You cannot refuse. We  _ have _ to make Cameliard presentable for their arrival."

She bristles at the insinuation that her home is not fine enough to welcome the Kings home.

Elyan sees her expression and sighs. "Cameliard is a wonderful place and is no backwater by any means, Gwen. But compared to the capital..."

Guinevere fidgets. She has never been to Camelot, but Elyan and his father have traveled all over the British Isles. He would know more about what is presentable than she.

"Alright. I will do my best to help you."

"That's the spirit!" In an instant he is back to being his carefree self. Elyan winks slyly at her. "Besides, I hear that the King is a dashing young man. If we do well enough, you might catch his eye.”

Elyan is shoved out of the room, still laughing.

* * *

 

_ -A Great Hall in Orkney- _

Minstrels and bards play jaunty music as mugs of ale are passed around. The hearty laughs of men and the soft giggles of women abound. The King smiles from the head of the table and raises a mug of ale with the arm not wrapped in bandages.

Another King sits to his right, curiously observing the people around him. His silence starkly contrasts from the jovial atmosphere.

"Drink, King Arthur! You must try the drink of the North!" The host declares. Arturia wonders if the man can even do anything quietly.

"Many thanks, King Lot. But I have drunk my fill tonight." Not true--exactly. She can certainly drink more, but what passes for Northern ale taste like leaves mixed with Merlin's weirder concoctions. Not to her taste at all.

"Nonsense! A King can never drink too much." Arturia scowls inwardly as a mug is slammed down in front of her.

_ If I won the war, then why am I taking orders from a man I had beaten? _

Lot has taken it upon himself to  _ educate _ King Arthur on proper kingship. Arturia agreed mostly to sate her curiosity, but apparently,  _ proper kingship _ lies in one's choice of drink and weapon. Being satisfied with 'Arthur's' prowess with the latter, Lot decided that a feast was the perfect place for a lesson regarding the former.

Where she comes from, the greater proportion of liquor is distributed to the lords and knights at the feast's latter stages, once the food is mostly gone. Those who do not wish to take part in merry drunkenness take their leaves. Those who stay become much… noisier, among other things.

In Orkney, however… the people have liquor at breakfast. And dinner. And supper. 

"You must excuse, my lord husband, King Arthur." A woman--King Lot's wife--chuckles. She is seated at his left, and therefore, in front of Arturia. "He sometimes forgets that not all of Britain has Orkney's customs."

Arturia just smiles in resignation. Her mug is half- full… or is it half-empty? "It is as they say, my lady. When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

The woman grimaces as she looks at her husband, who is now at the middle of the table, regaling his men with war stories. "That is not the best… analogy, King Arthur." She looks back at Arturia. "Sympathy for Rome does not run deep in the North."

"…I see." Many things changed for Britain when the Romans left the islands. The people were forced to defend themselves from the Anglo-Saxon invaders without any aid from their former overlords.

One of the many things 'King Arthur' eventually has to address.

Arturia looks to her right and finds Sir Kay carousing with the other knights and warriors. Merlin has an arm around a woman’s waist and is whispering things in her ear. Arturia sighs but lets them be. They deserve a moment of merriment.

Some lords or knights lie passed out on tables or chairs and those that aren’t are singing or clapping their friends on the back. The food has been hastily cleared out by servants and the last barrels of ale, wine, and mead are being rolled out. The feast has formally moved into its latter stages.

Arturia finishes what remains in her cup and finds King Lot’s wife examining her as she puts the mug down. The woman does not seem inebriated, nor does she look at the King of Knights with desire. But there is something about her that sets Arturia on edge.

“Morgause! You’re still here?” 

Their attention is drawn when the host shuffles back to his seat. Another mug is in one hand while the other is clutching a wall for support. Unlike Lady Morgause, King Lot is obviously drunk. “You enjoy speaking with Arthur so much you decide to stay?”

Morgause frowns and opens her mouth but is interrupted by her husband. He chuckles and turns to Arturia with bleary eyes. “She’s never done that for  _ me _ , milord. Heh. I guess I-ah don’t have to teach you anythin’ about… wenches.”

Arturia frowns. “King Lot.”

“Ugghaa-“ King Lot ignores her tone, grunts and shakes his head. He takes a swig from his mug and looks at his wife. “Go be with the children, woman. The boys need their mother.“

Morgause stands, her forced smile not reaching her eyes. “Of course, my lord.” She walks away with taut shoulders, perhaps preserving what dignity she has left. 

Arturia turns to the now dozing King Lot and gets the feeling that this is not the first time things like this have happened. The host snorts in his sleep and absently moves an arm. His mug topples over and the contents spill on Arturia’s tunic. She curses, pushes the chair off the table and wipes her tunic with her bare hands.

_ I hate feasts. _

* * *

 

_ -King Arthur’s Camp- _

Tents are rolled up, pack horses and mules are fitted with gear, the banners of the king and his noblemen are raised and squires and pages run around the camp carrying their knights’ arms. 

Arturia watches a captain yell orders at men-at-arms from the parapets. She had left Sir Bedivere in charge of assembling the men for travel two hours ago and Sir Kay had taken it upon himself to discuss legalities with King Lot. Left with nothing to do, the King contented herself by observing from the castle parapets. 

But she had been doing so for an hour. 

Arturia is saved from resorting to pace like a caged animal when Morgause approaches. “King Arthur.” She gives a curtsy, impressive, considering the fact that the ground is covered in snow. “May I join you?”

“Of course, Lady Morgause.” Arturia inclines her head and waves a hand at the space beside her. 

The other woman walks over and lays her hands on the parapet wall. “I...feel that I must apologize for my husband’s behavior during your stay, my lord. He…” Morgause frowns and coughs, perhaps running out of things to say… or excuses she can invent. 

A small smile comes to Arturia’s lips as she turns back to watching her men. “I doubt that King Lot feels that he has anything to be sorry for.”

Morgause winces. “You must understand, my lord. The way they do things in the North is different from the way things are done in the South.”

“I am aware. Well, at least now I am.” Arturia exhales. “It was a… sobering experience.”

King Lot’s wife looks away and purses her lips. 

“Nevertheless, I can see that Lot has the support of his men and knows how to rule over this icy portion of the isles. I will not strip him of his title any time soon, my lady. There is no need to worry.”

“Ah.” Morgause sighs in relief. “Thank you, King Arthur.”

Arturia raises an eyebrow. “Did you really think I would?”

“Kings are not known for their patience or mercy, my lord.” Arturia is taken aback by the sudden intensity in the other woman’s eyes and the bitterness in her tone.“High Kings even less so.” 

“You are quite unlike your father.” She says after another moment of examining the King.

Arturia huffs and crosses her arms. “You are not the first person to say that.”

“You resemble him greatly. You have Uther’s emerald eyes and his golden hair, among other things.” Morgause’s description is dry, talking as if she was checking things off a list. “You have more from him than from your mother.”

Arturia grits her teeth. She does  _ not  _ want to talk or hear about Uther and Ygraine. They are people she has never met. People she will  _ never _ meet. “You remember him so well that you can compare us so?” The word ‘us’ leaves a dry taste in her mouth.

Morgause scoffs, making the King turn her glare at the other woman. “Of course I remember him so well.” She huffs and turns back to the parapet. “He was my father as well.”

* * *

 

End of Chapter 06

**Author’s Note:** Whew. The latter part of this chapter took me more than a month to write (blame my school and loads of procrastination for it. Sorry!) 

We’ll go back to the present for Chapter Seven, so for all of you curious about the Archer and Lancer tension from Chapter three, just wait for the seventh! 

Like Morgause, I also feel that I have to apologize. Not for King Lot’s behavior mind you, but for the predicted slowness in my updating. It’s my last year (hopefully) in university so I have a ton of workload this semester. Don’t worry though, I’ll do my best to update as soon as I can. Your reviews, favorites, kudoses, and PMs matter a lot! So please keep sending them. :)

**P.S:** Morgause is  _ not _ Morgana Le Fay. They are different people. (Alright, saying any more will be spoilers so… yeah. I’ll stop with that.)


	7. King's Road

**Tale of Two Ages**

**Chapter Seven – King’s Road**

**Author’s Note:** As usual, I apologize for the long wait. Everyone who has reviewed/commented/followed/favorited/gave a kudos has my heartfelt thank you. Your support is what writes this fanfic. If it weren’t for you guys, these ideas would have never escaped my brain.

_21 st Century United Kingdom_

_London, England_

That did _not_ go well, Lancer muses as his fingers tap an erratic rhythm on the windowsill. Guinevere looked so tormented when she saw him, so eager to flee his presence. She probably knew who he was long before he said her name and confirmed his identity, but he does not blame her for wishing he was someone else instead.

Lancer’s fingers stop their unfocused dance and only the tight set of their owner’s shoulders belie his tension. Guinevere, Guinevere…

Memories from their last meeting come unbidden to his mind.

_Guinevere stares at the king. She is kneeling, disheveled on the other side of iron bars. Her velvet dress is covered in days worth of dirt. “Arthur,” she whispers, almost as if she cannot believe the sight in front of her eyes. “You have come.”_

Lancer exhales and runs a hand through his hair. He knows how it ended and it is not something he wishes to remember. Her presence in the Grail War will be troublesome, he notes. She is not someone he can willfully harm, so they would be at a severe disadvantage should Guinevere ever betray them. And given her earlier reaction, he is unsure how likely that would be.

A moment of concentration tells him that Archer has not left the building. He snorts. If it is any consolation, he supposes that she is just as confused about the entire matter as he is.

Shirou comes in a few minutes later. “Rin is in their room with Archer right now,” he says sheepishly as he leans against the door.

“I know.” Any Servant can sense another from such close proximity.

“Right.” Shirou fidgets a bit under Lancer’s impassive stare. He coughs and flops down on the nearest bed. “So, is it… is it really you, Saber? The same Servant from the fourth Grail War?”

Lancer smiles slightly and nods. “It is, Shirou. Although calling me Saber is… inaccurate. I no longer wield Excalibur.”

“No longer-? Why? And while we’re on topic, what-“ Shirou waves a hand at Lancer. “happened to you?”

Lancer frowns and scratches his chin. “To be honest, I do not know. I was summoned like this, but before I was summoned there was an odd… conversation if I remember correctly.”

“An odd conversation?”

Lancer only shrugs in reply. “While we are on the topic of summonings…” He sighs exasperatedly. “I expected better from you Shirou. Your first summoning was hasty and lacked finesse-“

“I didn’t even know what I was doing back then!” He says, back straightening as he raises a fist.

“Yes, I know. But why is it, that at this time, when you should know by now how to summon properly…” Lancer frowns. “I find myself deposited on a field several miles away from my Master? Your first summoning was better.”

Shirou winces and scratches the back of his neck. “I-uh… sorry? I did exactly what Tohsaka did and she summoned Archer flawlessly. I don’t know. Maybe I made a mistake somewhere and…” He inspects Lancer from top to bottom, causing the Servant to raise questioning eyebrows. “Is um, your new body my fault too?”

“That would be… unlikely. Perhaps it is a cause of being summoned in Europe? Influenced by my legend?”

Shirou smiles brightly, reminding Lancer of his Master’s old enthusiasm. “We’re not just in Europe, Saber. Er, Lancer. We are in Britain. Your home.”

Lancer’s eyes widen. Britain. The land of his birth, the endeavour of a lifetime. Even now, he fights for Britain’s future, a chance to erase the mistakes of his rule. Or is he?

He is unsure of what being summoned in his homeland makes him feel, but there are more important matters at hand. “That is wond- um… why? Are we not supposed to be in Fuyuki?”

Shirou sighs. “It’s a long story. I’m not sure _why_ a Holy Grail War is happening in London, but Rin and I think that the Holy Grail may not be too pleased at attempts to destroy it. This war may be a defense mechanism of some sort.”

“You attempted to destroy the Grail?” Lancer cocks his head to one side. “Again?”

Shirou nods somberly. “After what happened during the fifth, it was obvious that the Grail had to be destroyed. After a few years studying at the Clock Tower here in London, Rin asked Lord Ell-Melloi for help. Since he was a former Master during the fourth Grail War, he also knew how dangerous the Grail was.”

_Ell-Melloi?_ Lancer frowns as images of a man in his mid-thirties with blond swept back hair come to mind. _An arrogant man. He was the Master of Diarmuid, who did not deserve such a cowardly master._

Noticing Lancer’s frown, Shirou asks, “You were in the fourth war too. Did you know him?”

Lancer nods. “I did. Although if I remember correctly… he died by my hand.”

Shirou stands from the bed and is unable to speak for a moment. “Y-you must be mistaken. He’s alive! Rin and I spoke with him just a few days ago.”

Lancer frowns at his agitated master, annoyed at the implication of being unable to kill a fallen enemy. _Although that was not a moment I am proud of…_  He sighs inwardly. “Regardless, Shirou, we must focus on winning the war. Assembling theories can wait.”

“But-“ Shirou looks ready to protest, but just scratches his head. “Y-you’re right. Everything will fall in place sooner or later.”

* * *

 

Later that day, Rin decides to take the two Servants outside to shop for clothes. They trail behind Rin, careful not to move too much in their ill-fitting clothes loaned to them by their respective masters. They had no choice but to wear modern clothes if they did not want to draw attention.

_How much Londinium has changed…_

Horses and armour-clad soldiers used to wade through Londinium’s muck-filled roads; now, red double-decker buses run over clean asphalt. Sleek buildings made of glass and concrete lie where there used to be bathhouses and farms. Lancer idly wonders if the London Wall still stands. The bustle of the city is not unlike that of Fuyuki’s, but Lancer is having trouble associating the fast paced hum of the city to the lazy drawl of life outside the castle from his time.    

A surreptitious glance to his left reveals that Guinevere is as silent as he is. He wonders what thoughts run through her mind; is she comparing this London to Londinium, as he is? Is she planning strategies for the war upon them, like they should be doing?

She shifts uncomfortably as they walk, a hand to her shoulder. Lancer chuckles inwardly. Or she may just be concentrating on not accidentally ripping her master’s clothes.

“We’re getting close to the shopping district now, Archer. You only have to bear for a little while longer.” Rin says somewhat sullenly, eyeing the two slightly hunched Servants.

Something on display catches Archer's eye after a moment of walking. 

She looks upon the clothes on display with such interest and curiosity that Rin is compelled to ask her if she wants to go in. Archer nods and enters the store, not looking behind her if her companions followed.

Lancer stays outside for a moment, looking at the dress that Archer was looking at so intently. He sighs slightly, wondering if he should warn Rin about Archer's rather expensive tastes. He finally enters to find a handful of people inside the store, all of them looking affluent.

Rin and Archer are by the women's section, with the latter inspecting clothes as if money wasn't an object, not even bothering to look at the price tags. Rin is delegated to the role of a lady-in-waiting, holding Archer's chosen clothes in a basket in her hands. Something she does not seem to appreciate, especially since it her who will be paying for their clothes.

Once the clothes become too heavy, Rin finally has had enough and hands the basket over to a very attentive attendant, who seems rather happy to have a customer such as Archer.

Lancer shakes his head and starts looking through the clothes in the men's section. 'Shopping', as Rin puts it, for clothes like this is a different experience from flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine, as he has done all those years ago with Irisviel.

His lips curl into a smirk as he remembers the sheer amount of girlish dresses that were in the closet of the Einzbern castle in Germany. Needless to say, none of them fit the King of Knights very well, both figuratively and literally. Such clothes were not suitable for one of Arturia's temperament and body.

 

After that, Irisviel had insisted on looking through fashion magazines. She had suggested dressing the King of Knights in a short skirt, something that the latter found embarrassing, saying that one could not work properly with their legs bared in such a manner.

But the surrogate Master had not been satisfied with that, no.

She had suggested ribbons and ruffles, which were out of the question. Being not a matter of like or dislike, but simply because they did not suit Saber. Also sleeve decorations, which made the Servant wonder when their conversation had turned into making her wear such clothes, she had wondered if Irisviel was teasing her, which the latter had denied. It was the first time she had doubted her pseudo-master.

Eventually, they had settled into letting her wear a suit like Kiritsugu's. Dark and somber, accentuating her blonde hair and green eyes, and ensuring that her outfit matched with Irisviel's white apparel.

"Lancer."

Lancer is taken out of his thoughts when Rin calls him. "Ah. Rin, please let me choose my own clothes." He blurts, still remembering being forced, nay, pressured into wearing unsuitable clothing.

Rin blinks. "Of course, Lancer. I have never pushed you into wearing anything you didn't want to." Then she looks at him suspiciously. "Or have you forgotten that I have lent you clothes before?"

The very idea that the slender Rin, who is only a few inches above five feet would lend clothes to the well-built, 6-foot Lancer seems ludicrous to anyone who might overhear. It is not as if they know that Lancer was not always so tall, after all.

Rin shrugs and shakes her head, dropping the subject. Archer, who is standing beside her Master, decides to interject.

"You had a weird expression on your face just then, Lancer." She asks with a weird expression on her face herself. "What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing really, Gw- Archer. Just… idle musings.” Lancer says noncommittally and turns back to the rack, not really wishing to discuss his thoughts. The time has long since passed and the people he remembers have been dead for years, if not decades.

He does not see Archer frown at him.

The pleased attendant approaches them with a practiced smile, mostly aimed at Archer. “Please come this way, madam. The fitting room is ready.”

“Just… how many did Archer take, Rin?” Lancer asks, watching as the other Servant charm the attendant as they walk.

Rin sighs, probably wondering what she has gotten herself into. “I don’t know, I just hope she doesn’t buy half the store.”

“I feel that I should warn you then, about Archer’s rather expensive tastes.”

Her eyebrows raise and Lancer continues before Rin can protest. “If it is any consolation though, she prefers quality over quantity. She may not buy many pieces of clothing.”

“But only the finest ones?” She chuckles dryly. “Well, I suppose you would know, Lancer.”

He offers a sympathetic smile and resumes his search.

 

* * *

 

End of Chapter 07

**Author’s Note pt 2:** I honestly wanted to include more things in this chapter if only to make up for my almost-year-long absence. But I feel that there is enough monologuing in this chapter already.

So… this fic is not dead. I have just been struggling to find motivation to update and/or continue due to either school, writer’s block, or the lack of a beta. The first one’s over by the way for those of you who care. I am now officially unemployed, which is either a good or a bad thing. I don’t know. *sigh*

Anyone there interested to beta read? I would prefer someone to bounce ideas and plot stuff with rather than grammar and spelling checks. In any case, thanks for reading.

 

   

 


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